A Leap in Time- An Infernal Devices Fic
by thisisntidris
Summary: It's 2017 when Will, Tessa, and Jem wake up after being attacked. iPhones, dating, and teenage life shouldn't be so strange,for kids who don't remember being born in the 1800s, but for a pop star,a cancer survivor,and the boy who might be crazy, it is. Modern, 2017 Will is pretty sure he's insane, especially when he finds himself falling in love with a popstar he's never even met..
1. London, 1878

London-1878

Will Herondale was scowling as he pulled a seraph blade out of his coat and held it before him, leading the Shadowhunting trio along a harsh wooded path, gradually going upwards. "Who decided you could come along?" he asked the girl beside him with a glare.

"You did," a Miss Theresa Gray replied promptly, plucking at phantom skirts as the trio began to scale the hill before realizing she was in the unfamiliar tunic and trousers of shadowhunting gear. "Out of the kindness of your hearts and generosity you asked me along."

"That, Will," a slender, white haired boy beside them put in, looking amused. "Is another way of saying she snuck into the carriage."

"Ah," Will said, glowering down at his sensor. "And how exactly did you do that? Shape shift yourself into a bug, did you?"

Tessa shot him a rather annoyed and bewildered look. "You know that's not how it works."

"He does," explained Jem congenially, putting an arm out for Tessa to grab as her foot slipped on a wet patch of leaves. "He's in a rather bad temper today. It's not just you."

"How do you know it isn't just her?" Will began fiercely, plucking at the buttons on his coat, clambering up the hill ahead of both Jem and Tessa. "Personally, I think that Tessa is-"

He cut off, staring wildly ahead. "Something moved."

Jem's eyes moved up quickly, scanning the woody terrain. "Where? I didn't see anything."

Will whispered to his blade, and it glowed blue. "If you would cease and desist goggling at Tessa then you would've," he said, but without the usual bite, his eyes trained on the forest. "There. Up ahead." He gestured with his blade.

It was an average morning for London, the sky a dark almost-downcast, the air fresh with the scent of barely falling rain. Charlotte had been set two weeks to find Mortmain, two simple weeks, and every lead was viable. Charlotte herself was besought, running this way and that, rather hopelessly in Will's opinion, trying to get everything, and really getting nothing, done all at once. So it was that when a note was left on the door of the Institute, bright the morning of the last week, Charlotte herself didn't even fully read the note. The moment she saw the name of Mortmain was mentioned in its phrases she left it in the hands of the others, with commands to follow up. Jem and Will had eagerly offered their services, seeing that being around Charlotte these days was a bit depressing. Or at least, that was Will's thinking. He couldn't say for Jem. So they had set out, Cyril taking them as far as possible in the carriage.

The note was, in short, a confidence, from an anonymous witness, claiming that there lived, in the countrysides of the outskirts of London, a warlock by the name of Echius. The note itself was in a rather disgusting scrawl, smeared with what looked like grease, and worded like a foreigner or an illiterate, so at first they paid it no heed. Upon brief investigation, however, the parabatai set had quickly found that there was no such warlock registered under that name in the Clave, which, if he truly existed as the source claimed, would be in direct violation of the Accords. In Will's opinion, it was what one would call a wild goose chase, but that didn't stop him from going. Beside killing demons, arresting rogue downworlders was second best in his opinion, and if this little trek meant a chance to arrest an illiterate fool meddling in an already incredibly tedious investigation, he thought it completely worth it.

It hadn't been raining when he and Jem left the institute in the carriage, driven dutiously by Cyril, who Will was still, though he wouldn't admit it, vaguely uncomfortable around. There was just something about being around the lookalike of a man you watched die, that was extremely disconcerting. Regardless, he assumed he was kind enough, even to the extreme of being courteous to Will himself.

Will did not want Tessa with them. He tried desperately to despise every little smile, and honestly despised every time she caught on to her fiance's arm (which was quite often). He was using the best of his abilities to show utter disdain for the fact that she was here at all. How could one take their minds off of horrible things by destroying downworlders if the center of one's aggravation insisted on following them?

So, when motion caught his eye up ahead, he was infinitely grateful for the distraction. He took a firm step in front of his companions.

"Who's there? Name yourself!"

Jem stepped up beside him, surreptitiously moving himself directly in front of Tessa. "Will," he murmured. "How do you know it's not simply a forest animal?" Yet, as he spoke, he slowly twisted his cane, letting a slip of blade glint in the light of Will's blade.

"Gut feeling," Will muttered back, eyes remaining on the forest. He moved forward once more. "By the authority of the Clave I demand that you show yourself!"

"The Clave doesn't scare me, boy," came an almost elderly sounding, crackling voice from the foliage, causing Jem to jump slightly, and Tessa behind him to suck in a loud breath. Will stayed perfectly still, jaw tight. None of the group could see a thing. "I like to think I'm old enough to be Jonathan Shadowhunter's own father. How does that settle with ye?"

Will and Jem tensed, Will's blade flashing bright, Jem sliding his blade out completely.

It was Jem who responded first. "Are you the warlock Echius?" he asked, his voice cautious but firm.

It was then that a man stepped forward from behind a crowding of ivy and dead vines, standing before them on the crest of the hill. He was not what one could call intimidating, with a small, hunched over frame and cane that made him look much older than his eternal youth would portray, a mop of sandy hair that was rooted in dirt, leaves, and what looked, at a distance to be. . . maggots. He suddenly grinned at the travelers with a large, toothless smile, that made something in Will's chest go cold.

"And if I be? What do the likes of the Clave want with a simple man like me?"

Jem seemed to be struck speechless by the strange sight, his face a mirror of Will's own bewilderment. However, it was Will who spoke this time.

"We are currently in an investigation for the clave," he said, eyes unblinking on the feeble warlock. "We were told that you could give us information we need."

Echius twirled his cane in a hand, looking thoughtful. "Ye best be coming into my home. No good talking out here in the dank with that pretty miss ye've got behind ye."

Tessa straightened slightly, looking slightly disgruntled as Jem and Will simultaneously glanced back at her.

The man turned and began to disappear deeper into the forest. The three exchanged a look and began to follow.

"Are those maggots he's got in his hair?" Tessa hissed, leaning over their shoulders.

Neither responded, excepting Jem, with a simple shudder.

They followed him deeper and deeper into the dark wood, the sun almost completely eclipsed by the tangles of trees. Finally, without warning, they nearly bumped into a ramshackled house, shoved between two cypruses. Echius, who had been far in front of them despite his seemingly frail frame, waved to them from the shack's door, already safely inside.

"I don't like this," Will cut in quickly to his companions.

"Neither do I," said Jem grimly. "But we've seen worse. One insane warlock won't keep you away, Will. That I do know.

"Well, are we staying outside all day or shall we go in?" Tessa spoke up, looking at the two of them in turn, eyebrow raised.

Will and Jem exchanged a look. Jem shrugged slightly. "What is there to lose? From the looks of him you and I alone could control the situation easily, if needed."

Will nodded. "In it is then." He stepped to the door, opened it and disappeared inside.

Jem and Tessa exchanged a glance before Jem held open the door for his fiance and they too disappeared inside the shack.

The inside was worse than the maggoty man himself, reeking of what smelled like stale urine and sour milk. Upon entry, one's eyes did not know what to look at. Whether it be the rotting green boards of an ancient bookshelf, falling to pieces, several broken windows, their glass dotting the floor, or what looked like a long ago abandoned squirrel nest in its ceiling. As for the man, sitting in an armchair in the corner, he was almost unrecognizable. Sitting up straight, cane merely a toy in his hands, his appearance had changed entirely. What had been grease coated rags were suddenly a sleek foreign fabric, in the set of tight trousers, a buttoned shirt, and a jacket of sorts. What had been hair coated with maggots and filth of all sorts was now combed down across his forehead, a starling blond. Instead of a sickening toothless grin, a small, tight lipped smirk smiled out at them.

Jem, in his bewilderment, asked the less obvious question. "You. . . live here?" he asked, dazed.

The man's eyes glinted. "Oh no. No, no, no, no," he spoke, his voice as silky as the fabric he wore. The strange lilt and 'ye's' were gone, leaving no trace of anything but a pure, cultured British accent. "I wouldn't dare live in a hovel like this."

Will stepped forward, eyes burning dangerously. "Are you Echius?" he demanded, pointing his seraph blade at the man.

The man continued to smile, his smile tamed but his eyes bright and wild. "Oh, I am Echius. I am most certainly Echius, young man. And you are what will soon be my greatest achievement."

"Explain this," demanded Jem forcefully, pointing his bladed cane at the man beside Will's sharp pointed knife. "Now."

"What is there to explain?" he asked in response with a titter, leaping to his feet with grace that made the three in front of him back up a step in surprise. "I have successfully lured three Shadowhunters exactly where I planned without a hitch. I have exactly what I wanted and I plan to make the best of it." He grinned wildly at the three horrified faces in front of him. "Oh, and now don't be hasty!" he called loudly, as Tessa, teeth gritted and determined, attempted to reach behind her for the door knob. "You really think I'd bring my biggest achievements to a room and leave the door unlocked? You must think me stupid!" He laughed out loud at this, Tessa's white face growing taught.

"You wrote the letter to Charlotte. Luring us here," Will said without emphasis, face tight and resigned.

"Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes," sang the man gleefully, his eyes darting from one to the other of them with the look of a small child on Christmas. "I must say you caught on rather quicker than the last one. He wasn't much of a help, had to call a demon up to possess him," he said with a pouting expression, as if this was the most tedious of stories. "Although, he did manage to bring me back some nice presents." He stroked the strange fabric of his clothing lovingly, as if caressing it.

Jem stepped firmly in front of Tessa, who had already drawn a blade from her own belt, but it was Will who spoke this time. "Back from where? Why did you lure us here?"

"He didn't last long enough," Echius replied, turning on them with wild eyes. "The trip hurt his brain. But you. There's three of you. One goes down, I have two more!" he sang, gibberish, in childlike glee.

Will's lips twisted. "No, you don't. Whatever's wrong in that sick mind of yours we want nothing to do with it. And you can't possibly possess all three of us," he said defiantly.

"Will," groaned Jem from beside him.

"Who needs possession?" shrieked Echius, eyes wild and gleeful, bouncing on his toes. "I learned last time that didn't work well enough. This time, this time, you're going differently. THIS TIME-"

Tessa grabbed onto Jem's arm, eyes wide.

"Jem," called Will loudly over the Warlock. "Get Tessa out! NOW!"

"-THIS TIME YOU'LL NEVER COME BACK!"

"JEM! NOW!"

The sound of Jem's shoulder slamming into the door resounded just as Will dove at the warlock with his blade, and Tessa threw hers through the air directly towards the crazed Warlock's face. But nothing came of any of these actions , because, at that exact moment, the world as it was for Tessa, Will, and Jem, went black.


	2. Will, the Unlikely Millennial

London- 2017

"Will? Will, is that you?" a voice spoke from nowhere.

Will slammed his feet to the ground, stopping his bike mid turn.

"What? Who is that?" he demanded, eyes searching his surroundings, and finding nothing once more. A strange sense of wrongness crept into his chest.

"Will? Will?"

He lept off his bike, not even putting up his stand but letting it crash to the concrete. He held his arms out for himself, had the strangest sense he should be reaching for a weapon. But what weapon?

"Who is that? Show yourself!"

"Will, you idiot," spoke the muffled voice from somewhere behind him. "It's James. You pocket dialed me, now answer the phone."

Will slumped his fighting stance and rolled his eyes. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket as he reached an arm out to tug his bike up from it's rather sad, dented place on the sidewalk.

"I don't pocket dial," he spoke into the phone, hopping back onto his bike with a single hand free.

"Oh, you do," replied the voice wryly. "You'd be surprised how many conversations you have with yourself I that get to hear. And it seems to always be me. Don't you have any other contacts?"

Will felt himself bristle. "Of course. I am a very popular fellow, you know."

On the line, Jem sighed. "No one says 'fellow' anymore, Will. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you-"

"Well I do. Fellow, fellow, fellow." He cleared his throat, kicking off the ground and setting off once more.

"There once was quite a fine fellow,  
Who didn't care what was in style  
And so he did bellow, the simple word fellow  
Making all those around him revile. . .

"-him." he added, as if afterthought. "Revile him."

The line was silent for a moment. Then: "That was one of your very worst. You can't rhyme fellow with fellow."

Will coughed once. "I happen to be multitasking. You are currently putting me in danger of being arrested for texting and driving."

"That's for cars, Will. Not bicycles. And you aren't texting. Now I wanted to say-"

"Well that does not change the fact that what I am currently doing is incredibly daredevilish and you should be extremely worried about my welfare-"

"Will!" Jem interrupted mildly. "Don't you want to hear what I wanted to tell you in the first place?"

Will paused mid thought. "You wanted to tell me something?"

"Of course," Jem said. "Otherwise I would've hung up."

"Well then why didn't you just get to the point in the first place?"

"I've been trying, Will, now will you let me-"

"-rambling on about fellows and wasting all of our time-"

"Will!" Jem interjected, sounding quite a bit more agitated than usual. "I got the tickets!"

For the second time that morning, Will's bike stopped abruptly, but this time it was not premeditated. His foot hit the pedal with insurmountable force and he nearly chucked himself off of it, the handlebars hitting him painfully in the gut. "What?"

"The ones to see Tessa Gray. Weren't those the right ones? She's performing in Manchester this evening and I know-"

"You got them?" Will guffawed, rubbing his chest with a single hand, ignoring a very loud beep from the car behind him. He gestured at them to pass a little too vigorously, which received him a rather vulgar hand gesture.

"Yes, though I have to say I'm sure the salesman was a little confused as the majority of her average audience is. . .?"

"Girls," Will put in helpfully, an incredulous grin spreading across his face. "Little girls."

"Yes. . ." commented Jem, sounding cautious. "You never did explain why we want to go."

Will tightened his jaw, sitting up straighter on his bike. "I'll tell you later."

"So. . ." Jem commented thoughtfully for a moment. "You're just going to drag me off to a tween pop star concert without any explanation whatsoever?"

"That was the plan."

"Why am I not surprised?"

 _ **2 hours earlier:**_

Will Herondale woke up to the underside of a wooden bunk bed knowing he'd dreamed of Tessa Gray. He blinked. For a moment he let himself dwell on the dream, just like the others. This time she'd been with him in some sort of library, laughing at him as he swung from rung to rung, throwing down books. Just as both times before, she'd looked so real. He could just picture how it felt to run his hands through the thin brown hair, his lips down the curve of her cheekbones. . . He grimaced as he sat up, nearly bumping his head on the bunk bed's underside. Dreaming about school girls was one thing, dreaming about random women was another.

He stretched, sliding out of bed and kicking off his pajama bottoms. He slid on the same dark jeans as yesterday, unable to summon the motivation to pull out clean ones, as well as a simple white t-shirt and a flannel. He walked down the hall and slid into the bright, sun coated bathroom, and caught sight of himself in the mirror. At his tired, dark eyed reflection he remembered seeing it for the first time on Saturday morning, the first night the dream had happened. The first day he had woken up feeling. . . strange.

He had awoken, panic striken. Something awful had happened, something awful, he needed to save- Save who? He looked around to the sight of an untidy bedroom, piled high with books in every corner, clothes and coffee cups in every  
other. He had been stunned at the sight of a desk, his desk?, covered in papers and books as if he'd been working, studying. . . for what? His entire body felt like it had been infused with metal during his. . . sleep. Sleep? He couldn't remember going to bed last night. He must have been drinking, but drinking what? Will didn't usually drink, even at the most hectic of parties, though even those he rarely went to. His head felt as though he'd been hit with a crowbar, his eyes with circles so dark he could swear he'd been sleeping for a milenia.

"It must have been a party. I got carried away," he had told himself, though the uncertainty lingered.

He had gotten dressed like a dying animal, stumbling and tripping, barely able to pull on the pair of jeans he grabbed without looking. He had then (and he would never admit this to another living soul) felt the strange urge to grab a pair of suspenders, before nearly choking on his own laughter and falling over, panicked. What was wrong with him?

He had wandered the upper story for a moment, seeing a vaguely familiar pathway, and yet feeling as though it was utterly foreign. He had eventually found the bathroom, wandered inside and locked the door tightly. He looked down at the vanity to see a small pile of toothbrushes. His sense of unease increased as he paused a moment, trying to recall which color was his, until he finally picked a random one, slid on the toothpaste, and began to brush. He tried to ignore his hands shaking, ignore the awkward way the brush slid into his mouth, his automatic reflex to gag and spit it out. It felt abnormal. This all felt abnormal. But no, he told himself, no, this was a normal day. This was his normal house. He had spit and rinsed, telling himself this.

The sense of panic had gradually disintegrated as Saturday and Sunday came and went and his life went on as normal but the sense of unease lingered. He had spent time with Cecily and Mam, watched his father's chair but to no avail, but didn't touch his phone, or his laptop. He didn't know why, but he didn't want to see more of the world just that weekend. It had felt like too much; he was taking baby steps and it was all he wanted to handle. All he could handle. But he had talked to  
one person. Someone, he still thought, might be able to understand.

Today was Monday; today he felt better, stronger, less. . . weird, and today he was going to that wonderful hell: school.

The day felt a bit brighter as he descended the stairs, sniffed the familiar scent of fresh breakfast awaiting him. He emerged into the  
tiny, bright kitchen to the sight of a full plate of food and a note awaiting him. He sat down in one of three chairs at the tiny, flimsy table in front of him, grabbed a fork and stabbed a sausage as he picked up the note and began to read.

 _"Gwilym,_  
 _I'm off to work early this morning and Cecy went in early to prepare_  
 _for her presentatin. I left breakfast for you and your coat is in the_  
 _laundry room if you need it. It's supposed to be chilly today._  
 _Love,_  
 _Mam"_

Will sighed and slumped back into the chair, letting the note fall. He shoveled his eggs, sausages, and toast into his mouth, gulped down  
a glass of milk and made his way to the front hall. He caught sight of himself in the hall mirror. His eyes still shaded with dark circles, his dark black hair was rather long and unruly, something his mother didn't usually let happen. As he began to turn away from the mirror his eyes snagged on a dark brown smudge on the bottom of his chin. He wiped at it, squinting at it curiously. Dirt. Forest dirt. How on earth had that found its way on his face? He shrugged. These weren't questions to trouble himself with as he grabbed his backpack, disgustingly heavy and packed with textbooks, lugging it onto a shoulder with a grunt. He sighed, grabbed his key from the back pocket of his jeans, and set off to face the world. With question after question ringing in his head, he hoped, he hoped today he'd find the answer.


	3. Cancer and Detention

The sky was an inky black as Will took an empty lemonade glass from the girl beside him, gently out of her cold, curved hands. Hands that were too petite and blond curls that were a falsehood but he saw through it all. Even in the eyes that had been blue, the awkward humility as they'd pushed through the crowd, none of the pride the face she wore usually contained. He saw through, as though she were a light shining, burning, to be seen even from underneath the cloth that hid her. He saw her. Tessa.

Time seemed to flop, skipping several beats of moments, minutes, maybe hours, and suddenly he was holding her. Not her the hidden figment, but Tessa as he knew her. As he dreamed of her. Brown hair breaking loose and falling around her shoulders, eyes the simple grey overcast that reminded him of the sky of home- He slid off her glove, felt her gasp, and felt the world flip once more as he began to kiss her.

"Will," a whisper, sounding from somewhere beyond his own mind.

 _"Will-"_

"William Herondale, is my class so very boring you think you have the right to sleep through it?"

Will rose from sleep with the absolute, horrifying certainty of the familiar burn of 32 eyes on the back of his skull. The forth dream had hit him harder than the others. His lips even felt hot, as though he'd really been kissing. . . He cut off this train of thought rather quickly, slowly sitting up, and rubbing the slight edge of drool from the corner of his mouth in the most casual way possible. His eyes looked up to meet those of a burning Mrs. Cox.

Will let out a long silent sigh, glancing to the scantily clad smirking cheerleader on his left, to the freckled student beside him who was sleeping as well.

"Well," he began slowly, folding his hands across his desk, stifling a yawn. "To be completely fair, it clearly isn't an entirely unpopular opinion," he said, holding her gaze as he gestured to the snoring boy next to him.

He knew when the class simultaneously whistled that he was dead meat. But then, he had known that when he made the comment.

"You didn't have to come here with me," Will groused sulkily, later that day as he sat in the not-so-silent detention hall.

"Oh, yes I did," James Carstairs replied, tracing lightly with his finger on the chipped wooden surface of the old desk. "I knew I wouldn't get the full story you promised me earlier if you sat here all afternoon. Besides, maybe I've been tired of actually leaving school at a decent hour," he said, without a hint of the grin Will knew, with annoyance, he was stifling.

They were whispering to each other across the crowded detention hall, with the skill of two students who knew how to avoid a monitor's attention.

"Yeah, well you're wasting your time," he said sulkily, twirling a pencil between each of his fingers in turn. "I don't exactly feel like talking."

Jem shrugged, expression plan and emotionless as he continued to trace swirling designs onto his desk. He was pale and thin, especially for a person of his height, lithe and yet, not breakable looking. He wore a button up with a red jumper pull over, his jeans the same dark as Will's. Will didn't exactly know why Jem's hair was white and, as his best friend and unlike every other person in the school, he politely refrained from asking.

Suddenly something occurred to him.

Will leaned forward, squinting at his friend. "Wait. How did you get yourself here? Aren't you the perfect student?"

A smile flitted across Jem's face and he shrugged. "Well, Cecily came and found me after English and told me where you were. She's not pleased, by the way," Will let out a slight noise of annoyance. "Anyway, I went to Mrs. Cerniglia and told her in very clear terms that I hated her class and would henceforth refuse to do the work, but she just told me I was under too much stress and gave me a lozenge. So then I knocked down a vase in her office, and here I am."

Will gaped. "How on earth did you escape getting a detention the first time?"

Jem's face darkened slightly with a grim smile. "Cancer perks," he said simply, his tone clipped.

Will waved this away with a hand. "More like honor-roll, teacher's pet perks," he said with a snort, watching carefully, out of the corner of his eye, Jem's expression.

Jem grinned slightly at him, the darkness in his eyes falling away slightly. "You are the only person on earth who would say that to me."

"Well, it's not my fault my best friend is a suck up."

Jem rolled his eyes. "Applying yourself to work does not make you a suck up. Besides, your grades are nearly as good as mine."

Will shot him a look. "Except I don't do 'in-class participation'," he did air quotes. "And I don't care about Teacher's Appreciation Day. Do you realize how much underpaid high school teachers care about Teacher's Appreciation Day? I thought they would mob me when I walked into the teacher's lounge to ask a maths question without a bag of toffees or a 'I LOVE LEARNING' hallmark card. Like a vicious pack of hyenas that's what it turns them into-"

"Will," Jem interrupted calmly. "As your friend who dutifully bought us tickets to see a random, very expensive," Will sensed there was emphasis on this word. "-pop concert this evening, I would love to know the reason why we'll be trekking out to Manchester immediately after school."

"That reminds me," Will perked up. "Are we stealing my parents' car or yours?"

Jem's face didn't change. "My 'parents' would only let me borrow their car if I promised I'd pay it ten times over and then leave and never come back. So, yours. Now, don't change the subject."

Will sighed, looked thoughtful for a moment, and then met Jem's eyes forcefully. "If I tell you you have to swear not to think I'm absolutely insane."

Jem simply stared back. "That ship has pretty much sailed. I've thought you were insane from the day we met, this won't change anything. Now, continue."

Ten minutes and some fast talking by Will later, Jem was frowning slightly. "I'm confused. Why Tessa Gray?"

"I don't know," Will said cooly, slumping in his chair. "If I did, maybe I wouldn't feel so disgusted with myself."

"Well," Jem mused. "Disgusted is a rather harsh word. I mean if your mind chooses to be obsessed with a random teen pop star that's not exactly disgusting-"

"No," Will interrupted sharply. "You don't understand. It isn't- It isn't obsession. I feel like," his voice upped a notch, desperately. "Something happened to me. Like. . . I remember her. Like we knew each other, in some kind of. . . past life."

They sat in silence for a moment under the weight of this revelation.

Will braced himself for impact. "Do you think I'm insane?" he asked tersely.

Will didn't look to him but he imagined Jem looked thoughtful. "Well," he said thoughtfully. "You know I believe in life being a circle. I suppose it's possible you knew her somewhere before."

"Yes," breathed Will quietly, barely hearing him. "It's possible."

They were silent for another moment.

"Well," Jem said slowly, interrupting the strange quiet, a strange sheen of sweat covering his face. "I guess we need to go to Manchester then."

"Yes," Will said, turning forward again, jaw tight. "We do."

Will looked out of the corner of his eye for Jem and saw him staring at the black board, appearing to be concentrating hard. Somewhere deep down, Jem had to feel the change he had, he thought, his insides beginning to squirm with panic, didn't he?

"What," Jem asked suddenly, his voice slow and cautious, making Will jump. "About Tatiana?"

Will stared at him blankly. "Tatiana?" he asked blankly. Out of all of the questions he'd been expecting, this was not one of them.

Jem turned to him, eyes vaguely concerned. "Tatiana Lightwood. Your," he looked rather awkward. "Girlfriend?"

Will sat completely still in his chair for a moment, staring at the wall in deep concentration. He scanned his mind. He. . hadn't remembered her. He hadn't remembered a girlfriend. He suddenly felt himself crashing back to reality. His brain flashed back to brief memories, brightly colored, almost, almost a fake feeling surrounding them. A girl with long, perfectly straight brown hair, smirking at him across a car seat. Dancing with him in a long black, backless dress at some. . some dance. Kissing him in the school courtyard while the rest of the party drank and danced through the night. He stared at the wall, in deep concentration, and felt nothing but horror.

"I mean, I understand that you aren't controlling these dreams," Jem said carefully. "Or that you don't know why there happening. I just had the feeling- Or I got the sense- That you considered yourself in love with her?" he ended, his voice tempered and worried.

He heard himself as if from a distance, talking back to Jem, saying something. "Let's not talk about Tatiana," Will said, feigning sanity for a moment, feeling as though the world was crushing itself to his chest.

Jem seemed to have gotten the vibe Will had been intentionally giving off, begging for silence, and remained quiet for the rest of the period, giving Will time to think.

Halfway through the period, a phone's ring resounded cheerfully through the detention hall, making the monitor glance up in disdain. Jem, looking horrified, quickly tugged it from his pocket looking at it in utter bewilderment for a moment before catching Will's eye, flushing, and tapping its screen rapidly, the sound cutting off abruptly.

They continued their silent reprieve.

The period ended with a loud bell and a bored monitor released them with warnings not to return, though Will knew he would. He slumped out of the room, backpack hanging from his shoulder, teeth ground together in his mouth, not seeing that behind him, James Carstairs was staring at his friend, a look of pain upon his pale, thin face, and one of complete and utter understanding.

 _Hey guys thanks for reading this chapter of A Leap in Time! :) If you like what you've seen stay tuned for more as I'll be updating regularly! And (just a tip) pay attention to every expression and note about a character's face. They might be hiding something. . ._


	4. A Violent Encounter

_"Tess, Tess, Tessa._

 _Was there ever a more beautiful sound than your name? To speak it aloud makes my heart ring like a bell. Strange to imagine that, isn't it – a heart ringing – but when you touch me that is what it is like: as if my heart is ringing in my chest and the sound shivers down my veins and splinters my bones with joy."_

* * *

In the middle of an empty London side street stood a tall, blond man in a grey suit, looking up at the sky, his features at first glance content and serene, in tune with nature. But upon closer examination, the eyes' curve was really too sharp, the mouth not a serene curved smile but a smirk, his hands in his pockets fists.

The man didn't move or even seem to breathe as a stranger stepped from the shadows towards him. A tan skinned stranger, with feline eyes, rather overgrown hair, and a luxurious suit that, unlike that of the man he approached, fit in with that of the society around him. He walked until he was several feet away from the blond man in question, eyeing him with barely contained disdain, a hand in his breast pocket. He seemed to pause, awaiting something, but, after several moments of silence and the blond man of strange apparel ignoring his existence.

"Echius," he said, straightening his spine. "Let us not be naive and pretend we don't see each other, shall we?"

The man in the suit simply smiled, turning his gaze even further upwards towards the heavens. "Magnus," he purred. "My dear friend, what on earth could bring you to be following me through the depths of our sweet city? Not the Clave's lapdog as rumor has it, are we?"

To these taunts, Magnus Bane showed no sign of insult or injury, only cold anger. "You are dealing with that beyond you, Echius. The magical community around you has put up with it for so long but it can no longer be ignored. _We know what you've done._ "

Echius turned a smirking lip towards his alleyway companion. "Don't like my methods do we?" he asked jauntily.

"No," the Victorian replied coldly, eyes ice upon the perpetrator.

"Well, my dear friend, did you just follow me to tell me you don't want to be pals anymore? How tragic." Echius' face broke into a sneer as he turned fully to face his opponent.

"No," Magnus replied smoothly, a curved smile appearing on his lips now. "I came to tell you I'm not going to let it go through. I fully intend to stop you."

"And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

With that, Magnus Bane raised a beringed hand, swirling it once in the air, substance with the appearance of blue lightning appearing around it. "You aren't the only one who can meddle with the future, Echius. Be sure of that."

* * *

Will sat, his elbows upon the steering wheel, knocking his forehead against the horn for quite some time. It was rather hypnotic after a moment or two, and it was a fun little game to see how long it took for a neighbor to give him a death threat.

This was a neighborhood was foreign to Will; Jem had simply texted him the number and he'd plugged it into the GPS. It was quite nice, truth be told, with a large abundance of flowers and hanging gardens, despite the humble little homes it held.

Will hadn't spoken a word to anyone at school that day, despite the fact that several people called to him in the halls. He'd kept his eyes on the ceiling, not wasting time with lugging books from class to class, and simply accepted the fact that it was going to be an incredibly weird day. Nothing, not one single thing had felt normal. Well, nothing, except Jem.

It had probably only been five or so minutes when James Carstairs emerged from the small, shared townhome, surprising Will with the emergence of a figure behind him.

Will had seen several foster families come and go for Jem, put up with the majority, hated others, and vaguely liked a few, but never had he seen a place where he could honestly say Jem looked truly happy. Although, Jem never seemed to have many strong emotions. He was slightly annoyed at Will, he was vaguely amused by Will. He was in a sort of good mood, he seemed slightly down. He never let emotions pour forth full force, never exerted anger, and, unlike Will, if he indeed had a temper, was a master at controlling it. So, it was a surprise to see Jem come out of this cozy little town home with the youngest foster mother Will had ever seen, a bright smile on his face.

She was small, so small she might've been unnoticeable, with a round kind face that looked in it's early twenties. She wore a simple blue sweater and jeans, and had her arms crossed as she spoke to Jem, a vaguely conflicted expression on her face. Her slight brows were drawn together as she blew a wayward strand of stringy brown hair from her face. Finally, whatever discussion she had been having with Jem seemed to have ended, as she pat him on the shoulder, placed something in his hands and made a shooing motion with a hand. Will watched, a little bemused, as Jem simply leapt down each steps with gracefully speed, a messenger bag dangling from his arm as he ran. Actually, ran.

Will kicked open the side door with a leg, his eyes on Jem, and opened his mouth to speak just as the young woman yelled out a final comment.

"Try and be home before 1!"

Jem clambered into the car with a grin, shutting the door behind him. He turned to Will, whose mouth hung agape.

"She. . . is the youngest foster mum I've ever seen in my life."

Jem chuckled. "She's not. A mum I mean. She's my landlady. Her name is Charlotte."

Will cocked a surprised brow. "Landlady? You're not in the system?"

Jem grinned proudly. "That would be correct. As of last week, I am officially an emancipated minor."

Will simply stared. "You didn't tell me about this," he deadpanned.

Jem rolled his eyes. "Don't get insulted. I didn't want to mention it to anyone until I was sure it would go through. And it did." He looked exceedingly pleased with himself, setting his messenger bag into his lap and beginning to rummage around in it.

Will pulled the car into gear and drove off down the street, leaving the blue sweatered landlady behind them. He didn't entirely know how to react to this, being terrible at any sort of congratulations and so, adeptly, decided to change the subject. "She looks young to be a landlady too," he mused awkwardly.

"Maybe so," Jem said thoughtfully, head in his bag, not seeming to notice or care about the change in topic. "She's only 23. Married, too."

Will made a noise of shock and disapproval as they pulled onto the interstate. "Crazy too, then." It was the strangest feeling that hit Will as he drove away from the small bright neighborhood. The same feeling he'd had of seeing Jem that first morning after the dreams began. It was of knowing, deep knowing. And, as seemed to be the trend with Will's thoughts, that made absolutely no sense at all. He'd never met that girl before in his life.

* * *

The car trudged along the motorway, and Will felt himself drift back into consciousness with a sharp jolt as it pulled to a stop.

"Wha- Are we there yet?" he murmured, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"No," sighed Jem, hands taught on the wheel, expression grim. "Still stuck in traffic. And check the time."

Will glanced at the dashboard. 9:56. The concert had started at 8. His heart sank.

"We aren't going to make it in time," he said, voice sounding vaguely strangled.

Jem sighed. "I can't say it looks good."

Will slumped in his seat and stared out the window at the late night traffic. While it seemed like an overreaction to feel so deflated at the idea of not making it, Will couldn't deny the very real overwhelming sense of disappointment that overtook him.

He'd awoke to the word Tessa pulling on his tongue like a lifeline and he realized now with a jolt how much he had, in some almost unconscious way, been relying on this supposed meeting. He didn't know if he could stand much more dreaming of kissing, not only kissing, so many glances, so many stupid _feelings-_

Well. He didn't know if he could continue in this strain and remain a sane man.

He ran a hand through his hair, with a low sigh, then sat up straight, tightening his jaw.

"Pull off at this exit," he ordered Jem.

Jem glanced at him from the road with a perplexed expression. "Our exit isn't for six more."

"Pull off," Will insisted. "I've had enough of this. I'm driving."

Jem cocked a brow, looking a mix of bemused and impressed. "You can't force our way there faster, you know."

"Since when have I been deterred by the word 'can't'?"

Jem looked conflicted for a single moment before stifling a smile, flipping his blinker on, and pulling off onto the exit ramp.

* * *

It took them ten minutes to be parked directly in front of the concert hall doors.

Will slammed on the brakes, slapping his hands triumphantly on the steering wheel. "There! Did I not tell you I could get us there faster?"

Jem simply stared back, a dazed expression on his face. "90 percent of that was illegal," he deadpanned.

Will simply grinned wider, throwing open his door, and leaping out onto the sidewalk. "I realized your problem. You simply refused to use your imagination. Imaginative driving is imperative to get places fast."

Jem rubbed his scalp as he clambered from the car. "You're too pleased with yourself to be healthy."

"And you're too cynical to be any fun."

Jem had no reply.

Will stared up at the arena, towering above them, and felt his breath knocked out of him. The sense returned, as it had every morning since that first morning, a tingling in the back of his neck. A voice whispered in the back of his mind that he had never, ever, seen a building of this gargantuan size. Of course, this wasn't true. And yet. . . he listened. It was a crystal clear night; too silent to believe a roaring concert raged behind the concrete walls in front of them. Too silent to accept that he was about to either confirm or deny his insanity. He didn't want to let into his mind his real intentions for coming here, he didn't want to let in the slightest bit of thought or his own logical mind would tear the dream to pieces. And yet, he stood.

Could he go in? Could he do it? The dream he had all too carefully crafted could be cracked by this too. But enough was enough. He took a breath, and gave a nod to Jem.

"Let's go."

Jem nodded in reply, the ever faithful friend, and the two began to walk briskly towards the doors. They made it five feet before the doors were thrown open.

Will stopped short, eyes widening. "What on earth-"

A large, exuberant crowd (consisting mainly of girls a good five years younger than Will and Jem themselves) streamed out from the doors, pushing past the two boys into the parking lot.

"She was _AMAZING_ tonight!" gushed what looked like a twelve year old with much too much eye makeup to a group of bedazzled peers. "I can't _believe_ we got to hear her sing 'Honey, Please!' You know they say she _NEVER_ sings it anymore! _Ohmygoshh_! And did you see. . "

Similar conversations hurried on around them at an identical eardrum piercing pitch and volume. Will stood stock still, arms stiff at his sides. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder as the crowds weaved around him, paying him no heed.

"I'm very sorry, Will," said Jem quietly, voice full of regret. "It was my fault. I should've found a faster route. And now we've missed it."

Will tugged himself out of Jem's light grip and grit his teeth. He turned to face a startled Jem. "No. No we haven't."

He turned, shoving quickly through the crowds without abandon, walking at a brisk pace. Jem quickly dodged through the crowds behind him.

"Will!" he called, catching his shoulder once more. "It was a lark but there's nothing we can do! The concert's over."

"She can't have left already," Will said determinedly, licking his lower lip in concentration. "It must have ended what? Five? Ten minutes ago? She's in there," he stated, turning to face the arena once more. "She can't have left."

Jem stared at him in disbelief, pale, sweat dotted face, shocked. "You can't be serious. You aren't going to go in and _find_ her?"

"I am," said Will, before shoving aside a twelve year old rather roughly and running through the arena doors.

"Will! _Will!"_

He knew he had lost Jem before he had even made it fifteen yards; the crowd thickened the further he dove into it, more people fighting to leave and get to their cars as early as possible. He shoved aside all in his way, parting a zigzag of a path for himself. He didn't see their faces. He didn't hear the loud conversations. All he heard was one unending, heartbeat line, pounding itself into his skull: _Tessa, Tessa, Tessa._

He wasn't going to be insane. He wasn't going to have to face this new, half missing life. He would find this link to his newfound dementia and cure it. He would be himself again. He sprinted faster.

" _Hey!_ Hey, you!"

He ignored the call, knowing it was after him. Pounding down sterile grey halls, unable to move as fast as he'd like as there was no possibility of motion without touching at least five other human beings simultaneously, he dove through the first door he saw.

The arena proper was enormous and daunting. Ceilings so high, he couldn't quite see the roof, he saw that he was on the ground floor of hundreds of floors of seats. The crowd dwindled, as the last remnants fought for their passage through doorways. Will had a clear shot, if he could only find. . . Where to go . . .

His eyes caught on the center. A large, circular dias, still lit in several colors of neon, though dimmer now than he imagined they were during the show. The stage. The lights hurt his eyes and it seemed nearly a mile away from where he stood, but he didn't give himself time to think. He took off, at a blinding pace. He wove between chairs and ropes, barely thinking of anything besides finding the answers to the questions burning behind his skull.

He reached the stage, faster than he'd imagined possible, and paused. He heard voices somewhere in the distance. He looked around him, his eyes finally snagging on a set of stairs set off to the side of the stage, blocked off rather inefficiently by a rope.

Up the stairs, down the hall that widened, widened, a new crowd, large burly men in black, an entourage- He caught sight of mossy brown hair. Her head turned but slightly; it was enough. Even through the large crowd he could see her face.

Their eyes met.

And Will's skull seemed to split open, as though struck by lightning.

He gasped in pain. A thousand images, memories he'd never seen before, places he'd never been before, flashed through his mind in a blinding blur, and though, in the uncontrollable flash of that moment he was not able to grasp completely what it was he was seeing, he knew one thing for certain:

He _knew_ Theresa Gray.

"TESS!" the words poured out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying. "IT'S WILL! TESSA, IT'S ME!"

The crowd parted in shock, though he barely took notice.

He tuned out the words in the background, though he vaguely heard voices.

"What the hell? How'd he get through the guards?"

"Don't ask _me_ -"

"Don't worry, Miss Gray, we'll have him out of here in a second."

Hands were on his shoulders, pushing him back. He'd lost sight of her, and he felt the euphoric feeling of moments ago beginning to fade into a cold, dull, burn.

"No, wait."

The voice was soft and yet forceful and it had immediate, clear effect on all there. The crowd parted, all but the burly man currently holding Will moved.

"But Miss Gray-" the man protested, a fearful look in his eyes.

"I want to see him," she spoke simply, just as she emerged from the crowd.

She wore a plain black rockabilly dress, the straps tied back behind her neck, the skirt pointing sharply to the sides in a hoop. It hung close to her thin waist, reaching down to her mid-thigh. She had a mic taped to her face, obscuring half of her mouth, currently pinched into a tight line. Brown hair, tied tight back in an elaborate bow, one single unruly strand, having escaped, falling across her face. He saw she had what looked like makeup on in buckets, her skin an unnatural pale, cheeks much too bright a pink. Grey eyes covered in streaks of gold eyeshadow stared at him, brows drawn together in deep concentration. This girl looked different from the one in his dreams. Was this. . . even her?

"Why. . . Did you call me Tess?" she asked in a clean, crisp American accent.

At that note another blinding series of images, slightly slower this time, flew past his eyelids. Tossing an apple in the air, familiar grey eyes staring at him angrily. An amused smile across a dinner table. A hot, wet night, in a dark shadowy attic and a bucket of water. And finally, a whisper, as though lips were right beside his ear, indignant:

" _Hell is cold_."

He could do nothing but stare. Dumbfounded. "I. . . don't know," he said honestly, voice sounding so tired and worn it surprised him. "It is your name."

Her grey eyes widened, curious but cautious. It seemed to Will a very familiar look. "Yes, but-" she bit her lip. "No one calls me that."

Will did not have a response to this. He was acutely aware of the bodyguard, standing obnoxiously close to his side, hot breath blowing uncomfortably down his neck. The hope that had taken flight in his chest was fast fading to something dull; a feeling of stupidity. But he could not leave without asking what he came to ask.

"Do you not. . . Know me?" It was a quiet question, his voice sounding almost pleading, unlike his usual brisk tone.

Her brows drew together in confusion, and she took a slow step backwards. He saw the change in her expression; he saw her silently write him off as a crazed fan, a stranger who she had never known and wouldn't ever attempt to. Her expression moved to one of pity. He felt he had seen it before. It made him sick. "No. . . No, I'm sorry. But I can sign anything you'd like," she said kindly, a sad smile lighting her features "-a poster?" She'd been rambling on, in the same pitying tone. "A CD? I'll have someone fetch-"

He held up a swift, hard hand to stop her. "No," he said wearily. "I don't want anything. I'll just be going." He turned to go, not missing the look of hurt that crossed her face.

The entourage closed in, moving about her once more. Will walked briskly away, the way he had sprinted through now unrecognizable but he did not care. He just wanted- Needed, to leave.

A large hand grabbed his shoulder again, though this time, he noticed. And cared.

"Hey buddy, how'd you get in here? I'd like to see your ticket, if you please."

He tugged his shoulder away gruffly. "Get off of me," he said darkly, his eyes on the floor.

Maybe he was insane. He didn't care.

"Don't you try that," the man warned sharply, grabbing Will and spinning him to face him. He was ugly and scarred, Will thought violently as he stared upon the large man's face, and Will wanted nothing more in that moment than to hate him. "I'll need to see your ticket or I'm going to have to take you-"

Will cuffed him. A hard, well aimed punch across his jaw. He heard a sharp, female gasp somewhere in the crowd, felt a moment of sick satisfaction somewhere deep inside his broken self, before all hell broke loose.

* * *

 _To be continued. . ._


	5. Slammed

_"It's too late," she said._

 _"Don't say that." His voice was half a whisper. "I love you, Tessa. I love you."_

Will hadn't talked to his mother or his sister in three days. Well, that is to say, he didn't make or respond to attempts at conversation. He'd accepted a bare minimum of communication and stuck to it, barely saying simple 'good morning's and 'good night's and 'I'll be back by six'. He saw their eyes growing in worry but neither said anything much about it- Though, he didn't give them much of an opening to. Perhaps they assumed he was going through a rough time in his relationship with his girlfriend, or simply out of sorts, or so he hoped. The truth was, he was out of sorts. He felt he knew them, more so than he felt he knew the supposed friends who had called to him in the halls on that day of school. And yet. . . as with the dreams, there was a gap. Will Herondale felt his life was an empty shell, he searched and searched but trying to find meaning in it or in his relationships with those around him just made his head hurt. So he accepted avoidance as the temporary solution. And it worked rather well for dodging pain; that is, until his mother and sister walked directly into the Police Station where he was held.

They'd arrested him after the punch he'd managed to land, but not before he'd put in a hell of a fight. An assault charge. He could only be glad Jem hadn't had the speed or the idiocy to follow him, or he too would be in handcuffs, and as quickly stricken from the emancipated minor list as you could say 'deadmeat'. He could only be glad he was still a minor. So he was vaguely satisfied at at least that. But in truth, it was hard to care about anything. He was, or he made himself be, numb as he sat, handcuffed to a chair, wasting away the hours by staring at the one dusty clock hung on a beige it had been many hours. The clock's hands had verged on one quite a while ago before getting stuck in a continual tap against the 35 second mark. Now, he guessed it was quite late. His mother walked through the door at the 784th stroke of 1:43:35, and the hour, which had been late before, suddenly felt like the point of utter exhaustion. Linette Herondale looked as if she felt the same way.

The bags under her eyes, dark enough that he'd noticed before, even while avoiding her, were now so profound she looked almost ill, the wrinkles along her forehead very distinct indeed. She walked into the police station determinedly but with an expression of one who had grit their teeth in the process of completing an unpleasant task that made Will think she'd spent quite a bit of time outside the station, trying to force herself to walk through it's doors. Try as he might, he couldn't pry his eyes away from her. The look on her face caused him physical pain.

Linette Herondale was a rather short, thin woman, with sallow cheeks, and deep laugh lines. Her eyes darted, tiredly but alert, around the small dead station, before landing on him. For a brief, terrifying moment, he thought for sure she might cry, her blue eyes widening and mouth pursing tight, but she quickly settled back into the slumped look of disappointment she had entered with. Linette did not go to Will, nor did she speak to him, she simply turned her head slightly and held her chin higher.

Cecily followed behind her, allowing him to move his gaze from his mother, though she was not a sight for sore eyes either. Her long, black hair was rather a mess, her eyes (one thing they held identical) red rimmed. She did not look tired nor depressed, but had her lips pursed so tightly they were white, hugging herself, her nails digging into her arms. She did not even glance his way. In the back of his head, he was grateful.

His mother approached the desk, where Will's dear and bosom friend, The Flabby Policeman, as he had lovingly called him for the past three hours, sat slumped in his reclining chair, reading 'People' and chewing halfheartedly on a stale piece of half eaten pizza. He was, clearly to Will, a man of refined taste.

Linette placed a hand lightly on the desk, her other clutching the faded brown coat she wore closer to her body as if she was cold. She sighed heavily and leaned across the counter.

"Excuse me, my name is Linette Herondale. I received a call to come pick up my son?" she asked, her voice, tinted with Welsh, tired, yet kind nonetheless.

Flabby glanced over the top of his magazine. "Eh?" he asked, sniffing rather loudly as he did so, and rubbing his mustache with a single fat finger.

"My son," Linette repeated, looking as though her patience was waning. "William Herondale. Arrested for causing a disturbance? I wasn't told what sort."

Flabby simply stared at her for a moment, his blue eyes containing what looked to Will as awfully close to suspicion. He sat up slowly with a grunt, and gestured to Will with his copy of 'People'.

"This your son m'am?" he asked gruffly over his mustache, twitching it.

"Yes."

"He a minor?"

"Yes, he is," she said wearily. "Thank God," she added in a mutter, shooting her first glance at Will in minutes. A glare.

Flabby cocked a bushy brow. "Punched a security guard. Flat in the nose."

"Actually, it wasn't anywhere near his nose," Will spoke up, blue eyes alight with dark humor. "It was his-"

"William, be _quiet_ ," Linette snapped, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples.

Will sunk back into his chair, and, out of reflex, tried to reach a hand up to run through his hair. It was stopped rather painfully by the cuff. He winced.

Will stared at the ceiling as his mother filled out paperwork. He was purposely keeping his mind completely blank, picturing only the plain beige wall before him in his mind. When his mind began to flick back to the matter at hand, he switched to mentally reciting 'God Save the Queen'.

Suddenly she was beside him, a paper in hand, Flabby at her side.

The policeman took a knee (to a long backtrack of grunts and sighs) and pulled a single key from off his belt, stuck it into Will's handcuffs, and unlocked them. His wrists released and he could not resist the impulse to let out a loud sigh of relief as the blood pounded back into his hands. Linette stared at him, mouth a thin line.

"Let's go," she said quietly.

They walked together to the car in silence. He moved for the passenger seat, before being roughly shouldered away by Cecily, her face taught. Neither she or his mother looked at him. He swallowed back a hard lump in his throat, climbing into the backseat and shutting the door. The three sat in the car in perfect and complete silence. No one spoke. It was minutes before Linette Herondale pulled out her key. Will noticed as she moved it to the keyhole, her hand was shaking so violently she could not get it in. Panic knotted in his chest.

"Mam-" he spoke up anxiously, his voice sounding hoarse, contemptuous mask falling.

Linette Herondale's face froze at these words before she dissolved into violent sobs, her face buried in her hands.

"Mam!" Will said louder this time. "Why are-"

"Don't you dare speak to her!" snapped Cecily, spinning around in her chair, staring at him with furious, betrayed eyes. "You are filth William Herondale, absolute filth!"

Will faced his sister, expression shocked. "I know I've gotten arrested but I'm a minor it won't stay on record-"

"It's not that, you insensitive clod-"

"Cecily, please," his mother interrupted sharply, trying to dry her eyes on her sweater. "Gwilym-" her voice broke. "What's happened to you? The past three days you haven't spoken or even looked at Cecily or myself, you don't eat, half of the time you look so pale you scare me to death-" She choked on a sob. "What happened? _What did we do wrong?_ " She sobbed into her sweater for a long moment after this declaration, Will sitting, pale as death, stock still. He barely breathed.

He didn't know who he was as he sat in the backseat. Now, and not for the first time, he felt like no one at all.

Finally Linette managed to calm herself, gasped a deep breath and let out a long, shaky sigh. "William, if you've begun to do drugs you can tell me-"

He didn't speak, only stared straight ahead as she turned around and looked at him, red eyes imploring.

"Or- Or if you've begun to gamble or- Or-" she broke off, shuddering. "Punching security guards at a Pop Concert? I can't even conceive of what could've caused you to do that but drugs or even. . even a gang," she spoke in a hushed voice, her Welsh accent stronger than ever now. She forced a shaking smile to her lips. "Gwilym, if you think I won't understand you're wrong. You know, your own father was - sorry - is tempted by the vices and sometimes, even. . even now he-"

"Stop," Will cut her off, voice emotionless. "Please. Just- Just let's go home." He did not alter his frozen expression, but, as his mother's fragile smile dissolved and he saw hatred for him burn in Cecily's eyes, he was grateful for the dark that hid his shaking hands. Grateful for the dark that hid his expression in the silence of the whole desolate drive home.

He had a lot of time to think in that silent ride, a lot of time he didn't want, but it gave him time to come to a resolution. He was going to have to change himself, he resolved silently, he was going to have to pretend it didn't all feel wrong. And he was going to have to completely forget ever thinking he knew Theresa Gray.

 _Hey guys! Thanks for reading another chapter of LIT :) (Remember to keep reading and follow!) I know it was a bit slow going and dramatic but prepare yourselves for the next chapter because a lot is about to change. . . ~Kathryn Maxim_


	6. Tessa Steps Out

" _If no one in the entire world cared about you, did you really exist at all?"_

 _-Theresa Gray_

It was the most tired Tessa had ever been, she felt, as she stepped out of the cab on a busy downtown London street. She reflexively reached to pull her hood over her head before seeing the street was practically empty, a traffic light blinking in time in the distance her only company. Was it that late? She dropped her hand from her hood, stepping onto the curb. It wasn't like she cared anyway if someone saw her, she was too damn tired.

She stifled a yawn as she looked up and down the block. A never ending row of what she assumed were very stylish townhouses, though she certainly wasn't seeing them in the best light by the fluorescent street lamps. She kicked at the neatly rowed bricks beneath her feet. At least there weren't any bums about begging her for change (however, though she would never admit it, the lack of access to beggars and cheerful loons made her miss home rather violently), or any litter. Someone had told her it was apparently a fashionable part of town, though she wouldn't have expected anything less from Nate at the rate things had been going.

The way things were going- Well, the way things were going Nate was going to throw a fit when she told him. But it was truly too much. Enough was enough. And she was done being the breadwinner for the family by being miserable; besides, even with only what she had earned in the last four years as an international icon (for 12 year olds at least) they would be set for life. She would explain this to him clearly and he would understand. He would. Wouldn't he? Though Nate had become a bit addicted to their new status; he had picked this place out after all, not even blinking an eye when she had requested to buy a house in a country they didn't even belong to.

"If you want to settle, why not do it somewhere new?" Aunt Harriet had said after thoughtful analysis of Tessa's request. She, at least, had understood. "We were all originally from Britain, you know, your mother and father and I. Why not somewhere in London?"

Tessa didn't know much about the proper place to settle, or even where she wanted to be, all she knew was that she wanted to be home, but certainly not as it was now. She would be coerced into living not in somewhere like their old three room apartment, but somewhere spacious, somewhere _grand_. Somewhere she'd likely hate. She looked up at the townhome Nate had chosen for them. This street was probably inhabited solely by celebrities, the rich, and government higher ups, she thought glumly as she sank to a sitting position on the curb. Possibly some that were all three at once.

She should go inside, she thought as a raindrop splattered on her nose. But it had been such a long night, and after everything that happened, she really couldn't bear climbing into a strange bed again. They wouldn't be awake, she knew. But the next morning they'd want to hear all about the concert, not really listening, at least until she told the there had been an arrest involved- Yes, an arrest! But she didn't want to think about it. She couldn't bear to think about it. Not when, for a single second, she'd thought- Well. It didn't matter now. She couldn't help but remember his face, and wish, really genuinely wish, that she _had_ known. . .

A siren whirred in the distance, calling her back to her senses. She stood, brushing off the back of her jeans, lightly damp from the rain that had already fallen. She sighed, walking to the door, plugging in the familiar code into the unfamiliar keypad and taking the plunge. She walked into the strange house. The smell of a place drowned in lemon scented cleaner burned her nose and, tired as she was, she simply ignored exploring, as she had found it immensely fun to do in the early days of her travel, stumbled up the stairs and attempted to find her room.

It wasn't hard. the only room with anything on the door, and a giant letter T to be exact; Nate must have known she would be home late. Nate or, more likely, Aunt Harriet. She opened the door, ignored every detail of the room except for it's large, pre-made bed, and climbed in. She was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

* * *

"Theresa Gray, rise and shine! You've slept late, come down for your breakfast or it'll be ice cold!"

Tessa rolled over in bed with a groan. She was vaguely aware of every piece of her being so cozy and well rested that she had absolutely no intention to move and therefore nestled deeper into the blankets. She heard a loud clang somewhere in the house and blinked open an eye. For a moment she thought it was only the bright sunlight streaming in but after a second she saw the room well: it was painted bright yellow. She sat up in bed, rubbing her head, feeling the remnants of much too much hairspray she had been too lazy to take out. She groaned inwardly, rubbing at her face, probably still coated in an obscene amount of makeup too, before her eyes caught on it, the defining feature of the room. Aunt Harriet must've had a say. Every wall, except the one her bed's headboard was pushed up against, was covered in beautifully molded, white, built in bookshelves and there, on the floor, were the familiar boxes of her books.

She nearly cried.

That had gotten her awake as she threw off her covers and dashed across the bright, sunny room to the boxes. She tore open one, grabbing the first book off the top, The Age of Innocence, flipping it open, and taking a deep whiff. She sighed. She felt at home already.

She didn't spend much time exploring at that moment (she'd have time for that later) but she was impressed by the room. Bookshelves and a window seat as well! She couldn't very well have designed a nicer room for herself.

Tessa took her time getting down to breakfast, knowing Aunt Harriet would go easy on her after a long concert night. She'd seen her face in the mirror and been rather disgusted; her eyes were coated in cold and eyeliner, her lips dark with purplish lipstick, her cheeks contoured into a jawline she certainly did _not_ have. So she showered, scrubbed the hairspray from her hair, and spent quite a bit of time removing every bit of makeup from her face. Finally, when she met her eyes in the mirror, she was satisfied. Plain and normal. Just like always.

She walked into breakfast firm in her resolve. Today was the day she'd tell Nate her decision, though she knew he would certainly hate it. Throughout Tessa's career as a small singer and then rising sensation it had not been her or even Aunt Harriet, no matter how the concept of being rich beyond belief and traveling the world excited her, to make the push for her to hit the big times, it had always been Nate. She knew this was the lifestyle he'd always dreamed of having, not bothering to hide it either, gambling like a millionaire instead of the foster child of a poor Aunt with a waitressing job. She knew deep down, he did it because he thought it made her happy too, though, of course, so she hoped, oh she really really hoped, that he would not put up too much of a fuss when she made her real intentions known.

He and Aunt Harriet were sat around a small kitchen table, bright with sunlight from a large window showing out to the yard. Aunt Harriet raised a brow as she walked in.

"There's our girl. Doesn't quite know what 'get down here now' means though does she?" She smiled brightly at Tessa, gesturing to the rather grand buffet of food before them. Enough to feed a village.

Tessa flashed her a smile as she pulled out a chair and began piling her plate with the various food items topping the table. "You did not want to see how I looked waking up this morning. I was a disaster area."

Aunt Harriet chuckled. "Like the house?"

"Oh, it's great! I think it might be my favorite since. . Well, since home." Aunt Harriet nodded, apparently pleased. Tessa took this time to take a glance at Nate, whose head was hidden behind a newspaper.

She glanced at him, bemused. Nate didn't usually care about what was going on in the times. She couldn't even remember a time when they'd gotten an actual paper. She shoved a bite of eggs into her mouth, groaning at how good it tasted.

"These are delicious, Aunt Harriet, did you do something-"

"Tessie," Nate spoke up loudly as if he had not interrupted her in the middle of a sentence, pushing his paper down with a flourish. She looked at him first in surprise but then wryly, suspecting he had been holding it just for this reason. "I was going to ask you: I checked the docket this morning and I don't see any new tours scheduled. Aunt Harriet told me I'd have to ask you as she had no clue what was going on with it. So I will. _Where_ are we heading next?"

He said this all very business like, not seeing Tessa's wide eyed stare as she hid her face in a cup of coffee. She was hoping this would not come up until she had at least eaten some breakfast. She met Aunt Harriet's eyes, searching for help, and immediately saw the answer on her Aunt's guilty face. She would have to handle this herself.

She sighed and set down her fork. "I actually wanted to say something about that," she said, her voice sounding much less commanding than she'd hoped it would. She took a deep breath. "There. . . isn't anywhere next. I decided that I want to take. . " Nate's eyes flashed to hers. "To take. . ." she said more shakily, turning her eyes quickly to Aunt Harriet who gave her a slight nod. "A hiatus. A break. I want to stop."

All eyes were on her and she wished they weren't. Nate's face went through what she expected: shock, bewilderment, anger, pleading, and finally settling on anger again.

"'A break'? A break?" he burst out. "You must be kidding! Do you know what happens to pop-stars who take breaks? They're done! Over with! Old news!" Suddenly his face changed, a lightbulb seeming to flick on behind his eyes. "Or is this a publicity stunt? Oh! Oh, yes! Yes, I can see it now, that's grand! Theresa Gray, disappears completely off the scene for months, making the press dying to get ahold of her and then makes her dramatic reentrance at- At. . . Buckingham Palace! Tokyo! Times Squ-"

"No," she cut him off quickly, knowing that while it would be easier to encourage this train of thought and placate Nate, she couldn't if she hoped to get what she wanted. "It's not like that, Nate," she said, looking at him, mentally begging him to understand. "I can't do it anymore. I want my old life back-"

He brushed this off with a hand, the other fiddling nervously with his shirt buttons as he always did in conflicting moments. "You don't know what you're saying, Tessie. You're still only young and you can't really know-"

"You are only three years older than me!" Tessa cut off angrily, glaring him down. "Don't pretend to know what's best for me!" She put her hand over his, turning her gaze pleading to him. "I hate it, Nate," she struck up, putting up a hand for silence when he began to interrupt. "I always have." She swallowed. "I hate not having a home. I hate not being allowed to go out without the whole world wanting to know what I'm doing. I hate coming home so late you and Aunt Harriet are already asleep and don't even care to see if I'm home-" she broke off, voice becoming shaky. "I- I hate seeing people who know me, or think they know me, and wishing somewhere deep down that I could know them too, but I-" She saw a flash of the boy from the night before in her mind.

Nate's face had gone red. "Tessa, I won't listen to another word of this- this ridiculousness!" He stood, shoving back his chair with a loud squeak. "You don't know what you're doing and you have no right-"

"Actually, she does, Nate," interposed Aunt Harriet cordially, hands folded calmly in front of herself. "It's her career. If she wishes to end it, it is completely up to her to decide what is right to do. And as her guardian-" she said this word with a slight furrowing of her brow, and the deep breath she took when she hated to disagree with Nate. "I have to say I agree. It's time."

Nate looked as if he were about ready to explode but simply tugged his phone from his pocket, gave them both a betrayed looking glare and turned on his heel, marching from the room, clearly making a large attempt to act as if he had somewhere important to be.

Tessa let out a long breath. "Thank you, Aunt Harriet," she said quietly. "I don't know how I would've won that without you."

Aunt Harriet looked shaken (she hated disagreeing with Nate) but waved it away with a weary smile. "Oh, whatever, honey. It doesn't really matter. As if we're not as rich as we need to be." She smiled wider at Tessa, who smiled back, shoving some more eggs into her mouth. A gleam appeared in her Aunt's eye suddenly as she put a finger to her lips. "However, I do have a condition that goes along with my approval."

Tessa stared at her, startled. "What is it?" she asked, eating another forkful.

Aunt Harriet tapped her finger lightly against her lips. "As long as we're living here. . . I'd like you. . . To go to school."

Tessa choked on her eggs. It took her a minute to be able to breathe again. "School? You have to be kidding. I haven't been in school since I was 12!"

"Tessa, I want you to get out in the world," Aunt Harriet said passionately. "You haven't had a single friend since that age! Five years! Haven't you been lonely?"

Tessa spluttered, bewildered. "I mean, yes, sometimes, but-"

"I want you to go to highschool," her Aunt said firmly. "Here in London. Go to prom, make friends, find a boyfriend for heaven's sake!"

Tessa blushed, thinking to the story she'd just been planning to write and who it would center around. "I don't need a boyfriend! And I can just teach myself. . . like. . . I've always done," she said in a small voice.

Aunt Harriet brushed this off with a huff. "You need to get out of the books and into a real romance, sweetie. We love you but I wouldn't be surprised if you're as awkward as a duck out of water with _other_ people!" She snorted then looked thoughtful. "And if you're worried about safety, we'll find a school that will keep it hush hush. Bodyguards, even a disguise if you want it. The works."

"No, no, it's not that. . ."

Aunt Harriet shrugged, her lips curving into an amused smile. "Well, anyway. It's my deal. Take it or leave it."

Tessa stared at her, eyes mournful. "I take it," she finally said after a moment, voice defeated.

Aunt Harriet patted her cheek lightly. "Good."

As Tessa walked up to her room, the wariness slightly began to ebb. Maybe school wouldn't be that bad, she thought halfheartedly as she brought her laptop to her new desk. Maybe she would actually get to make some friends. Besides, she had been feeling rather. . . out of sorts lately. Maybe friends would fix it.

She typed in the familiar url and clicked on her favorite page. It was time for the next chapter of her fic, and she knew exactly the new character she would introduce. As her Aunt cleared breakfast on the floor down below, Theresa Gray was already in the midst of stepping into her alternate persona online, describing in detail a beautiful blue eyed hero who came to save the damsel from a dark and painful fate. . .

 _Okay,_ _ **yes**_ _, I made Tessa a fanfic writer (maybe I'm biased but I_ _totally_ _think Tessa would fic if she could). So this chapter was a bit slow but I'm introducing Tessa to highschool! The poor muffin needs some transition time. Anyway, this will be the last "day in family life" chapter for a while. If you like this fic pleaseeee follow or share it! I really enjoy writing it and I'd love to know some of you like reading it! (To the people who have already commented and followed- you guys are the best thank you so much :) Keep tuned in cause things are_ **about to get heated. .**


	7. He Isn't Gay, Tessa

_"_ _I am not a certified idiot—"_  
 _"Lack of certification hardly proves intelligence," Will muttered."_

Gabriel Lightwood did not enjoy school more than the next teenager, but he had to admit he was quite good at it. He averaged A-'s mostly, and was generally a good student and thought to be well behaved (if he didn't have a bit of a temper problem). He enjoyed History and English (though he thought some of the interpretations of books his teacher made absolute tripe) and was even a relatively good student at Maths, but the one subject he did not have the patience for and absolutely could not master was A Biology. He had taken it years ago and barely gotten himself through it with a bit more help than he wanted from his older brother, but now Gideon was gone at university, and Gabriel was left to suffer a more advanced version of the class he couldn't stand. He hated it, he loathed it, it made absolutely no sense to him and the idiot arguing with the new girl next to him was not helping his concentration on his lab.

He'd been sort of half listening to them for a while now, not quite eavesdropping (it was their own faults their idiotic conversation was being heard, he couldn't damn well help that he had ears, could he?), but getting the general gist, which made him only more annoyed. Apparently the nitwit harassing the girl, a weasley boy he had sort of 'known' since starting Secondary school named Jeremy, thought she was some sort of star or something and was absolutely intent on having some sort of damn argument with her as he was to annoy the living hell out of Gabriel who was quite literally right next to him and simply trying to finish the damn lab he'd been assigned. The teacher called a warning for 15 minutes. Gabriel looked at the two lines out of eight he'd managed to scratch down and seethed. He leaned in a moment, trying to

"Your music sucks you know," he heard Jeremy say. "I've heard it in elevators and on the tube, disgusting stuff, you know."

There was a pause. "Thanks for the compliment. I do my best to annoy innocent tube travelers," the girl responded, sounding as though she was repressing rage.

"Absolute lovey dovey trash. I don't even understand how you got-"

Gabriel had had just about enough with this. He spun his lab chair a 180 and clapped his hands together loudly, making Jeremy look up and meet his death glare. "Shut up, Jeremy, you worthless piece of snot. Haven't you got enough on your hands with your drug problem to have a harassment report too?"

Jeremy flushed gripping a pair of pliers in his hand tighter. "The hell you butting in for, Lightwood? You listen to her prissy music, _gay_?"

Gabriel let out an enraged half groan. "I don't know or give a damn about her music, I don't even know who she is. Just shut up so I can concentrate or so help me God I will beat you to death with my calculator." He flashed him a warning look. "Or does getting into arguments with helpless girls fill the hole in your self esteem that you lost when Tara broke up with you?"

Jeremy opened his mouth as if to respond, and flushed darkly before picking up his books and walking away.

"Well, that's a relief," Gabriel said darkly, turning back to his work, pretending not to notice the girl staring at him with the strangest expression.

He managed to scribble something down for every answer, but he still left the room in an absolute state of annoyance. So, it was that he was not the best to receive the first comment Tessa Gray had made to any of her new fellow pupils when she caught up with him after class.

"That really was rude of you to insinuate he was a drug addict," she said, suddenly walking beside him on his way out.

He looked at her. "Excuse me?"

"It was rude. Yes, he was being a jerk but you clearly said something to seriously upset him!"

Gabriel stared at her incredulously, stopping still in the middle of the crowded hall, letting the crowds flow around them. "I sort of got the feeling I was saving you from having to listen to ten minutes more of his moronic ranting," he drawled, feeling a pinch of annoyance.

She looked up at him, grey eyes cold. "If it was bothering me I would've said so. To him not to you."

Gabriel stared at her. She was a fairly pretty girl, though, he couldn't help thinking, not his type. With grey eyes, dark brown hair, and a sort of. . . 'fight me' expression, all he could think that she was ungrateful and. . . familiar?

So it was a bit of a surprise to him when she reciprocated the thought saying thoughtfully, "Do I know you from somewhere? You seem familiar."

"I was just thinking the same about you," he said, baffled, as they continued walking.

She huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. "Oh, that's not surprising. Did you see me on a billboard? Ad before a Youtube video? Little sister's bedroom wall? Because I'm probably any and all of those places."

Maybe she was insane. "What?" he asked blankly.

"I'm famous," she said in a very glum tone.

"Oh," he said, still startled. "That's. . . nice."

"Yeah, well, that's probably where you know me, but where do I know you?" she asked, looking up at him with an expression that set him slightly uneasy.

"I have no clue," he said quickly, beginning to scowl once more as he stopped to take a drink from a water fountain. "And let me tell you, famous or not, I don't exactly usual do charity jobs like showing new girls around school, because, unlike you, I already have friends, and I have better things-"

A hand thrust out from the crowd, shoving his face directly into the fountain. His nose thrust directly into the spout, his lip cutting deeply on the side. Blood and water poured down his face and onto his clothes.

"Hey, Lightwood!" called a jovial, rather large boy with a jersey. "Or should I say, ' _Gay_ , Lightwood'?" He and the rather large group around him burst into laughter.

Gabriel turned a shade of dark purple and began rolling up his sleeves, moving towards them. But he never got the chance to lay a hand on the absolute idiots because before he could say a word or move an inch closer, the little freak was in front of him and already talking as they walked away.

"Apologize, now!" she yelled, looking outraged, arms crossed across her chest.

The large boy, a blockhead Gabriel knew named Jonah Smith, stared at her, expression completely caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

"Apologize to him!" she said firmly, walking up till she was right in front of his face. "What did he ever do to you? And who cares if he's gay? That means you need to shove his head into a water fountain? I think you're just an ass!"

Gabriel hid his burning face in his hands and longed to die in a hole.

Jonah, far from being scared or intimidated, wore an amused smirk. "And who exactly are you, baby? Haven't seen you around."

She stiffened in front of him. "My name is Tessa Gray. And, not to brag but, I have the power to have thousands of twelve and thirteen year olds come and beat you to death. So, not to tell you what you should do, but I would watch your mouth."

Jonah didn't seem to know quite what to say to this and Gabriel couldn't really blame him. He simply laughed and began walking away, hands in his pockets. "Enjoy that outfit, Lightwood," he called tauntingly.

The girl, Tessa apparently, stared after him, arms crossed until the crowd blocked him from sight. Then she turned back to Gabriel, who she met looking at her with a half horrified, half resigned expression.

"Are you. . .?" Tessa began, looking cautious.

"Not gay? Yes, _thanks for asking_ ," he said bitingly, pulling his messenger bag over his shoulder roughly and beginning to stride away. Fast.

"Oh my-" she looked horrified as she caught up. "I'm so sorry. I just saw- You're wearing a vest-"

He looked down at his outfit. Slacks, a dress shirt and a sweater vest, all now covered in blood, and sighed, looking darkly at his outfit. "Yeah, this is a fun day and age. Dressing nicely automatically makes you _gay_."

"I was just trying to help."

"Well you're not," he snapped. "No offense but I don't know if you're really famous and I don't care. I don't want an American tag along and I would love not to get any more confirmations on my apparent gayness today so if you'd leave me alone now I'd be _really_ grateful!"

* * *

An hour later they sat at lunch together.

Tessa was explaining him how she'd come to the school.

"I haven't been to school in years," she admitted. "I've just been tutored while I've been on tour."

"Well, it shows," he said bluntly, biting into a sandwich.

"Thanks," she said acidly.

"Hey, it wouldn't be doing you any favors to pull punches," he said, looking at her seriously. "You saw what happened to me, and I'm not even a tween pop-star prancing around singing about love and daisies so what will happen to you, I-"

He glanced at her. She had pulled out a book and was looking at it strangely, completely ignoring him. He read the cover. "'A Tale of Two Cities'. . . Did you hear anything I just said?"

"Oh, yes, it's just- It's so weird." She glanced up at him. "Do you believe in deja vou?"

"No," he responded briskly. "That's just superstition."

"You don't believe in anything supernatural?"

He looked at her with a sardonic expression. "I _believe_ that maybe books are messing with your brain."

"This is historical fiction!"

He waved it off. "Whatever it is, it doesn't really matter. No. I don't believe in the supernatural. And to be completely honest, people who do are nuts. Take my sister's boyfriend for example. Complete idiot! Has weird, swirly tattoos all over him some of the time. I've told her I think they're superstition but she doesn't listen. Anyway, he's a lunatic. Just got arrested from a pop concert from what I've heard-"

"What?" she cut in breathlessly, her face pale.

He stared at her strange expression, bewildered. "What do you mean 'what'? That he's a lunatic?"

"No, the- The pop concert thing."

"That he got arrested at a pop concert? Yeah that was last week, Tat was really messed up about it which the most _annoying_ thing-"

Tessa grabbed his wrist, so tightly it almost hurt, looking pale as death. "Can you tell me about him?"

* * *

 _Hey guys! Sorry I didn't update yesterday; it was a mix of writer's block and traveling across like six states (*shudder*). Anyway, I really wanted to tell anyone who guest commented on this fic: thank you! You guys are the absolute best, I really wish I could respond :) Keep reading! And don't forget to follow to support this fic!_


	8. Jem Falls Hard

" _When Will truly wants something," said Jem, quietly, "when he feels something — he can break your heart."_

Tatiana looked up at him, her eyes still red rimmed from tears. Trying not to let his utter annoyance and frustration at this show on his face he brushed away what must be the 10,000th from her cheek.

"What's _wrong_ , Tatiana?" he asked, hoping his voice erred more on the side of low romantic than incredibly done parent.

"I just. . . can't believe you got arrested," she said, biting her trembling lower lip and clutching herself closer to his chest. "What would I have done if they'd taken you away? I would've _died_!"

He looked up at the ceiling and tried to mentally prepare himself to answer the same outburst for the 100th time. "I didn't get _put in jail_ so there isn't really a point in reliving it over and over again."

She shot him a watery glare, sitting up so she was no longer on him. "You don't even _care_ about my feelings!" she accused.

He stared up at the ceiling once more in silence. He didn't quite know how to respond to that.

She seemed to take his silence as deep emotion for she pressed herself to his chest once more, leaning closer and ran her fingers across his shoulder. He shivered involuntarily. "I know I shouldn't pretend to understand. Because I don't. But, William, you know how much I love you, how could you not thought of how much this would hurt _me_?"

Will thought of several angry retorts before mentally reminding himself of the promise he'd made to himself in the car that day. Normal day. Normal life. And annoyingly Tatiana was a part of that.

"I wasn't thinking of anyone else but myself," he lied, looking down at his tear stained shirt. Not stained with _his_ tears, obviously.

They had been in Tatiana's room for what must have been more than an hour. She'd burst into sobs the moment she'd seen him at school (he'd been suspended for the past week for the misconduct he'd caused) right in the middle of the hallway. To avoid a scene he'd dragged her into the nearest empty classroom and, to avoid further attention from her wailing, had really had to promise her anything just to get her to clam up. It had been a long day.

Now he was in her bedroom, huge, with several sofas, a queen sized bed, and almost entirely pink. It wouldn't have been half as disconcerting if she hadn't had dozens of posters of Theresa Gray all over her walls. But no. She _had_ to have those, he thought wryly.

She seemed to have noticed his mind had wandered, because, suddenly gaining the immense willpower to finally stop her tears, she leaned up into his face. He let out a noise of surprise and looked down at her.

She stroked his chin with long thin, ring covered fingers. She stared into his eyes with her own narrow green ones, and he couldn't help noting how incredibly weird it was to have someone so close that they could quite literally breathe into your nose. He knew he ought to feel something, he'd been trying to make himself feel something all day. She was a pretty girl, there was no doubt about that. She had nice features, if not rather sharp and pointy, with green eyes, long lashes, and a nose stud she wore that vaguely appealed to him. It was just the way she looked at him that made her eyes. . . weird. She looked at him as though she were not only awed but possessive. Last week several girls had made attempts to have laughing conversations with him in classes. This week no one had approached him but Jem, brave soul he was, who was apparently willing to face the terror that was Tatiana.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked in a crooning tone, rubbing along his cheek with her long fake fingernails.

He bristled, resisting the urge to lean out of the way of her hands. "Just- er - school," he replied honestly.

Her adoring expression faded, to be replaced by an annoyed one. She let out a groan and climbed off the sofa. "Wiliam, why does this always happen?" she snapped.

He looked up at her, genuinely startled. "Why does what always happen?"

"You!" she burst out, standing up. "Whenever I think you want to kiss me it turns out you're just thinking about a book, or a stupid poem, or school, or that idiot James Carstairs-"

"Hey!" Will cut in at this, expression turning angry.

"Do you ever think about me at all?" she burst out. "I have journals from Year 7 of my name in front of yours you know!"

"Don't I know it," he muttered sardonically.

"I don't know if I can keep up with this. I don't know what's wrong with you." She was so busy ranting she didn't see his gaze shift to the poster of Tessa Gray behind her.

It was Tessa just as he'd dreamed her. She was wearing a sundress in the rain, her hair soaked, a brilliant smile on her face as she stood in the center of an unrealistically empty street. A guitar case sat next to her with the words "Gray Tour May 2017" 'stamped' upon it. His gaze hardened.

"-that's how you feel then maybe we should just break-"

He stood quickly, grabbing Tatiana by the shoulders and pulling her against him, kissing her hard. He pulled back to her shocked and vaguely awed expression staring up at him.

"Will?" she asked in a small voice.

He brushed a strand of hair back from her cheek. "I think about you all the time," he lied smoothly, ignoring the slight ping in his chest. "Just because I don't tell you about my feelings doesn't mean they aren't there, Tatiana" he said, resigned.

That was all it took. She melted under his words and, taking his face in her hands, tugged him down to kiss him once more, her own lips furious. He did his best to feign enthusiasm though he felt hollow. Because, after all, a promise was a promise. . .

* * *

James Carstairs sat in a diner alone, a giant plate of pancakes before him he knew he couldn't finish. He looked at his watch. Will had promised to be here an hour ago. The day outside was a rainy one, and the forecast foretold that the parts of the day that weren't rainy would certainly be overcast. This was to be expected for London, but he couldn't help the slight damper on his mood even after all these years of living here. Jem had just gotten back from therapy, and, though he really did hate admitting it, felt nauseus and awful. He knew he should be in bed but he couldn't stand missing any event- another event- because he was, as always, sick, he thought bitterly. He looked at the clock.

He guessed Will to still be with Tatiana. He had seen them leave school together, Will's expression rather dead. He took a long sip of coffee. They'd been dating since sophomore year and while Tatiana seemed to be ecstatic with the fact of whom she was dating Will always seemed. . . apathetic. Jem hadn't ever dated anyone- though this was not a source of angst for him. He knew- Well, he felt he knew, what the world had planned for him, and even if it had a romance planned for him, if it was centered around a girl like Tatiana, he didn't want it. But it wasn't to Jem to judge Will's actions, he could only sit by and watch as chaos ensued, but he thought he could tell where this particular strain of strangeness was coming from because. . . Well, in truth, he felt it himself.

He wasn't having strange dreams or demanding to go to pop concerts, but he felt strange. Had felt strange. Since the same day he'd noticed Will wasn't normal.

He opened his snapchat. Nothing from Will. He'd noticed some sort of riot about Tessa Gray today and, not sure why on earth that had to happen on the first day Will was back from his, really, well deserved detention, detoured Will around it at all costs. He didn't know why his friend was acting insane over a girl he'd never- Well, actually now met once, but he decided the best thing to do was to help him forget about it.

He checked his watch again.

An hour and a half and still no Will.

The door opened with a jingle of the bell strung to it. Jem looked up.

To his disappointment a girl stepped inside. She was wearing a baggy grey sweatshirt, the hood tight over her head so that he was not able to see any of her hair, except a single brown strand escaping across her face in the front. Her eyes were grey, her cheekbones defined, her face heartshaped.

She wasn't a magazine cover beauty, but she was the most beautiful girl Jem had ever seen in his life.

She looked around the diner, her eyes wide and searching before they landed on him. She slowly made her way towards him, looking apologetic even before she spoke. Something struck him in the back of his head. She looked incredibly familiar but where-

"Excuse me, sorry to bother you, but have you by any chance seen a boy about your age in here? Brown hair, a bit of a sarcastic idiot?" She pulled the sleeves of the olive sweater she was wearing down over her hands nervously as she spoke.

Jem stared at her and then cleared his throat. "I can't say I have, but. . . " He trailed off and cleared his throat again. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

She looked so exhausted and forlorn the moment the words came out of his mouth that he immediately regretted them. "Would you mind a lot if I didn't tell you who I am? I can't really explain but it would make my life a lot easier for the moment."  
He stared at her, keeping his expression neutral, though on the inside he couldn't help wondering who would want to hide their identity. "Alright, I won't ask," he said with a slight smile.

She immediately looked relieved, a smile touching her face before she caught sight of his large, very full plate. He felt himself flush. "I was expecting a friend," he said, hoping his embarrassed tone did not shine through. "I'm not a glutton, I promise."

She laughed once, smiling more naturally now. "I can understand that. Though, even if they were all for you, I couldn't really judge. I'd eat that many in one sitting."

He gestured to the plate. "Would you like some?"

She looked at him, her own face darkening with a bright blush. "Agh, no, sorry, I wasn't trying to _goad_ you into giving me food. I don't even know you!"

It was his turn to laugh now. "You aren't goading me. I'm certainly not going to eat them so they're yours for the taking."

She smiled shyly before sitting down. "If you don't mind. . . I am kind of starving."

He pushed the plate towards her, a smile tugging at his lips.

She bit into them with gusto, eating with great appreciation.

He coughed awkwardly, ignoring the churning of his stomach and his head. "I don't mean to worry you or anything but I am expecting a friend at some point. Though," he glanced at his watch, twisting his lips. "He was supposed to be here an hour ago."

She stopped midbite, swallowed, and smiled at him. She had syrup on the edge of her chin, he thought absentmindedly. He couldn't help thinking, shocked at himself _for_ thinking it, that she looked rather. . . adorable. "Well, I am too. So, if they both arrive, they can sit together. I'm sure they'll be fast friends."

Jem laughed simply at the thought of Will being forced to sit with a 'brown haired sarcastic idiot'. Will already knew Gabriel Lightwood, who fit that description, and who he absolutely loathed.

"I'm sure that'd work out amazingly," he said instead of these thoughts, watching her with a bemused smile.

She began to say something else, rather eagerly, but it was drowned out by a loud amount of white noise. A strange. . . buzzing; earsplitting, filling the entire diner. Her lips were moving fast. He couldn't hear a word.

"Excuse me but-" he tried to say, but he couldn't hear himself. He couldn't hear anything.

She looked up with startled eyes, saying something that looked panicked, reaching for him, before he felt himself going slack, and the world itself turning black.

* * *

 _Hey guys! Thanks for reading this chapter of LIT where Jem falls hard; literally AND figuratively (hardy har har). I'm sorry I've sort of been on off (I broke my streak of daily updates *sob*) but I have had. . . intense writer's block. SO MUCH so that I will beg anyone who has a modern AU dream for the TID crew to please comment it and I will_ _ **literally**_ _love you forever. Oh, and about Jem- I might be getting a little sadist fic writer on y'all but don't freak out- just keep reading!_


	9. Jem Remembers

_(Note: I seriously suggest listening to Iris by the Goo Goo dolls after the flash back if you want to have ze best possible reading experience ~max)_

* * *

" _We are all the pieces of what we remember._

 _We hold in ourselves the hopes and fears of those who love us._

 _As long as there is love and memory, there is no true loss."_

Jem was standing, wandering through a dark fog. He was in London, no- Shanghai- Wales. He'd never been to Wales before, only imagined what it would be like for - what was his name?- growing up there. He must have had a name once.

He was in London. In the rain; a broad rimmed hat caught the droplets from catching his nose. She smiled at him.

? No.

Ice filled every orifice of his body. He could feel his toes beginning to turn to ice, his eyes freezing themselves to their lids.

He was barely aware of his brain, an ever malfunctioning typewriter, spitting out wrong words onto his mindscape.

Where was he ?

Suddenly the world became bright, but not warmer. Bright, glowing, and with the glowing a. . . memory.

 _The music had risen to a crescendo. He was breathing hard, sweat standing out on his forehead and collarbones despite the chill of the evening air. He heard the click of his bedroom door as it opened behind him and relief spilled through him, though he did not stop playing. "Will," he said, after a moment. "Will, is that you?"_  
 _There was only silence, uncharacteristic of Will. Perhaps Will was annoyed about something. Jem lowered his bow and turned, frowning. "Will —" he began._  
 _But it wasn't Will at all. A girl stood hesitantly in the doorway of his room. A girl in a white nightgown with a dressing-gown thrown over it. Her gray eyes were pale in the moonlight, but calm, as if nothing about his appearance startled her. She was the warlock girl, he realized suddenly; the one Will had told him about earlier, but Will had not mentioned the quality of stillness about her that made Jem feel calm despite his longing for the drug, or the small smile on her lips that lit her face. She must have been there for quite a few moments, listening to him play: the evidence that she had enjoyed it was in her expression, in the dreamy tilt of her head._  
 _"You're not Will," he said, and immediately realized that this was a terrifically stupid thing to say. As she began to smile, he felt an answering smile beginning on his own lips — for such a long time Will had always been the person he wanted most to see when he was like this, and now, for the first time, he found himself glad not to see his parabatai, but someone else instead._

Another.

 _"Why can't you sleep?"_

 _Hesitancy._

 _"I have bad dreams."_

 _"I was dreaming too," she said._ _"I dreamed about . . .y. . .our. . . mus. . .ic." ?_

 _I dreamed about you too. I'm dreaming about you now._

Jem started from the fog; it was fading around him. Suddenly, through the cold, there appeared a speck of warmth, it started in his fingertips. It glowed, a low burn, and he felt, though now he knew his eyes were closed in sleep or, rather, unconsciousness, he could see the light it emitted. His body was ice, but his hand was being thawed. Someone was thawing-

His eyes opened slowly.

The eyes he loved most in the world stared down at him, grey and furiously worried.

He felt he had never been happier in his life.

He remembered.

* * *

"Are you saying he'll be alright?" Tessa demanded of the doctor for the 50th time. "He just passed out in front of me, I don't-" She cut off, her eyes darting to the bed, where the boy lay, unconscious.

"As I have now said several times," the doctor said, rubbing his bald head and looking rather grumpy. "Yes. He will be fine. We have his files on hand here and he will receive the best possible treatment." He gave Tessa a skeptical look. "And I must tell you that any non-family member is required to leave. These aren't visiting hours and he's a minor."

"I'm his sister," she said automatically, not pausing for thought.

The doctor, looked at her over his glasses, quirking a brow. "That right?" he asked, voice soaked in sarcasm.

"Of course," she said firmly, blinking at him, eyes hard.

"Impressive family resemblance."

"I'm adopted." Her eyes said 'fight me'.

The doctor's eyes roved to the boy and then to her. He let out a long sigh before throwing up his hands and walking out.

Tessa let out a breath.

She moved close to the bed, tugging the single waiting chair over beside it and sitting down. She looked down at him- the nameless boy. He was slender, his cheeks now intensely pale over his arched cheekbones, so thin you'd think him a boy not a man if you hadn't seen his face. His hair had startled him when she'd walked in the diner: pure white and downy. She couldn't imagine how he'd have it if he didn't dye it.

But these things weren't really on her mind now. She swallowed back a lump in her throat at the sight of him limp and slid one hand into his own freezing one.

She didn't know this boy. There was absolutely no reason she should care so much. Absolutely no reason she felt like crying. Absolutely no reason her hand was reaching out to stroke his face, as if- As if she could do anything-

His eyes opened. She almost screamed.

She pushed back the chair several inches with a loud squeal, covering her mouth with a hand.

"You're. . . awake," she breathed lamely.

He simply smiled, as if he had all the energy in the world, reached out a hand, cupped her cheek and murmured, "Ni hen piao liang."

She stared down at him, her lips parting slightly in confusion and a sort of awe. "I don't- I don't- How do I know what that means?" she asked, her voice small and insignificant.

"You know?" he asked, looking unsurprised, the same smile staying on his lips. That was not how he'd smiled at her in the diner. This was how- She almost blushed. This was how she'd written about being smiled at, never experienced it.

She stared in wonder. "'You are beautiful'," she said slowly, her voice beginning to shake. "How on earth do I know that? How the-" She sucked in a breath, her eyes widening in fear. "Who are you?"

She sat up quickly, his hand falling away from her cheek as the door slammed open and William Herondale pounded in.

* * *

Jem had had many serious attacks in Will's living memory, as ever since Will had known Jem he had had cancer. He couldn't remember Jem ever looking healthy, only occasionally a vague 'healthier' sense where his cheeks were less pale and even his hair seemed less dulled against his sallow skin. He wouldn't admit it but it hurt him. It hurt him more than words could say.

The hospital had tried to reach someone for Jem- probably searching his phone to find a mother, but Will knew they wouldn't find anyone but him. They'd called, asking if he were a relation, and he hadn't even waited to hear the rest of the sentence. He'd known what had happened.

Races to the hospital never felt fast enough; time seemed to slow just to keep Will from getting there in time. Because each time- Every time- he was terrified that he was not just racing the clock but Jem's heartbeats as well.

His head hurt as he flung himself off the bus and pounded down the sidewalk. He couldn't remember the last thing he'd said to Jem, he couldn't remember-

He threw open the hospital doors, and the world had become an old movie again. Cuts, breaks, in all the wrong places, and the time it took for the nurses heads to turn to him seemed frighteningly unproportionate from the roaring pounding of his racing heart. He heard himself ask the nurse for James Carstairs, or possibly an unidentified boy with white hair- Yes, he was his brother, he lied as usual. No, his parents weren't available. No, he couldn't fill out any damn paperwork could she leave him be his best friend could be dying! No, she couldn't, it was mandatory. Just give me the damn room number or I swear I'll find it myself-

A key, more stairs. He was sprinting now. Floor after floor and finally floor 5. Scanning the room numbers, door knob-

He thrust open the door, breathless. He was barely aware of someone else in the room as his eyes flew to Jem, seeing his open eyes and letting his heart rise back to it's usual place in his chest. He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair before his eyes caught on Miss Theresa Gray sitting in a chair directly besides Jem's bed.

* * *

Charlotte looked up from her large pile of papers with a sigh to retrieve the phone from where Henry had left it- the extremely convenient spot of between two sofa cushions. She picked it up, clicking the answer button with a slight sigh. It was a break of sorts, though a rather lame one.

"Hello, Branwell residence," she answered, her voice sounding at least friendly as she messed with her hair bun that was currently falling out. Her hand fell away from her hair as she felt goosebumps rise on her arms. "This is she," she said softly, face going cold.

She sat silent.

Finally: "I'll be right there."

* * *

 _Hey guys! So this chapter is a bit short but that's kind of by design. I'm kind of pleased with this. Okay, seriously, for those of you who leave guest comments I l ove you guys, I would insanely love to respond so I'll do it here and say: **THANK YOU!** :)) You guys are the absolute best for reading and supporting, it means a ton. Enjoy this chapter of LIT and keep reading!_


	10. Confused Much?

" _Tess?" A soft voice at the door; she looked up and saw Will there, silhouetted in the light from the corridor."_

* * *

It had been two Saturdays ago when Charlotte had woken up in a sweat, having dreamt that she'd cut off a demon's head with a sword. She'd woken up, feeling boiling hot and terrified, and unreasonably thought Henry's bare arms were tentacles trying to choke her. She'd screamed.

Henry was usually a fairly heavy sleeper, being known to snore in Charlotte's ear occasionally, but she really didn't mind. Having him next to her made her feel, unreasonably, that she had a wall between her and whatever bad that could happen. Nothing could hurt her if he was there, though again, this was a bit unreasonable. He was a heavy sleeper, but her scream was too much for anyone and he snapped straight up, blankets falling off his bare chest, blinking at her in shock.

"Lottie? Are you alright? What's wrong?" He blinked, rubbing his eyes with a fist.

"I- It's nothing," she whispered, feeling suddenly like the world's biggest idiot for screaming about a dream.

He did not do as usual, falling back asleep with out a simple nod, but surprised her. "Nothing? You wouldn't scream about nothing," he said sleepily, reaching out a hand, and rubbing her cheek gently. "What's wrong?"

She felt herself unwind, and, moved closer to him in the bed, pressing her face to his chest and wrapping her arms around him. "Oh, Henry!"

He made a noise, sounding utterly bewildered and for good reason. Charlotte rarely showed physical displays of emotion at all, even though they'd been married for a year, so her sudden embrace must have been a bit of a shock.

He took it well. He stroked her hair with a hand, tilting her face up with the other to look at him. "What's wrong?" he asked, eyes worried. "Did something hurt you? I've had Charley horses in my sleep before and while they're uncomfortable I wouldn't think-"

"It was just a dream," she whispered, feeling a vague burn of embarrassment.

He looked at her slightly strangely, before surprising her by leaning down and kissing her forehead.

She fought back the twist of emotion in her. "It's okay, Lottie," he whispered more gently than she would've thought possible. "It can't hurt you."

It wasn't condescending as it would've sounded coming from anyone else's mouth. It was the most reassuring thing he could've said.

In that moment, really what she wanted was to kiss him, but she didn't want to push it. So instead of tilting his face down to hers, she turned herself around again, moving to her side of the bed, and curled up to sleep once more.

She hadn't seen the look on his face, but if she had, she would've known her husband wouldn't be scared away by anything, especially not a kiss.

* * *

It was silent for what must've been a solid minute. Will didn't breathe. Tessa Gray was sitting there, in a chair beside Jem's bed, wearing a sweater and jeans, looki _ng like he_ was the one who was abnormal in this situation.

As if he was the strange one.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

She looked taken aback at the accusation, noticeably moving her chair back a few inches from Jem's bed. Will felt something harden in his chest. "You're the boy-" she stared, looking dazed. "The one who got-"

But he never got to find out what he got (though he could guess) because at that moment Jem interrupted with a cough. "Will, come in all the way, please."

Will looked down and noted he was still in the doorway. He moved like a sleepwalker, into the room and stood by the window. Tessa Gray looked back at him. He thought he could blink and see her on that balcony- Blink and see-

He cut himself off. He decided to avoid the most obvious predicament.

"Jem," he asked quietly, voice terse. "Are you alright?"

Jem surprised him by smiling widely (knowingly?) back at him. "I am doing amazing at the moment. So yes, I'd say alright is an adequate word."

Will simply stared. His eyes darted of their own accord to Tessa. She looked incredibly awkward (weren't famous people meant to have poise and social skills?) and was staring at him as if something hurt her. Well. At least they had something in common.

"Okay. . ." he said slowly. "Then why the hell is _Tessa Gray_ in your hospital _bedroom_?"

Before Jem could answer this question the door flew open once more.

For a moment all Will could see was a complete stranger, a very. . . short, complete stranger, fly into the room with a worried expression. She was short with light brown hair, all tied up in a rather messy knot on her head, wearing all black and holding an iPhone in a fist. She rushed over to Jem's bed ignoring everyone in the room.

It clicked in Will's mind. The young married landlady. He blinked. This day was getting weirder by the moment.

"Jem! I got the call. Are you alright?" she asked, brow creased as she reached out a hand to touch his forehead. "You don't feel feverish, but that doesn't really signify. Do you think the doctor's would let me see your records? I could-"

"What is going _on_ here?" Will demanded of Jem, moving closer to the bed next to the landlady.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you must be-"

Tessa stood up suddenly. "You were the one that met me," she blurted out, interrupting the surprised woman. "The one who got arrested. Weren't you?"

He stared at her, startled. "I mean- _Yes,_ but _you_ -" She was staring at him intensely, her expression conflicted.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Every head turned towards the doorway. There stood the weirdest nurse Will had ever seen.

He wore the normal aqua scrubs but with sequins dotting the seams, as if it was a self done job. His hair was black, sticking straight up and coated in what looked like- glitter? But the real shocker was his eyes- just for a second- looked like the narrow slits of a cat.

Then he smiled.

"Just need to check the monitors," he said in a sing song voice, walking into the room without further adu.

They all went silent for a moment then the landlady turned to Will and held out a hand. "Since I have no clue what's going on between you two," she gestured between Tessa and Will with a quirked brow. "I'll introduce myself. I'm Charlotte Branwell, Jem's landlady. And you're Will, I'm assuming."

Will took her hand with a bewildered look. "I'm Will. And that," he turned to Tessa giving her a questioning look. "Is Theresa Gray, the international popstar."

Charlotte's mouth became an O as she stared at Tessa. "You- I know you! I own one of your albums!" She flushed to the roots. "It was a present. I'm too old to buy that sort of thing on my own of course-" She cut off. "How do you know Jem?" she asked Tessa pressingly.

Tessa held up her hands in obvious defense. "No, you don't understand, I only just met him. In- In a diner. We ran into each other, we hadn't met before today."

"But that's where you would be wrong," Jem cut in suddenly in a mild tone, every head turning to him.

Will opened his mouth but it was Tessa who spoke. "What do you mean?" she demanded, her voice surprisingly gentle.

"None of us are who we think we are," Jem said his eyes moving from person to person. "I think we all know that something has felt off."

Charlotte and Tessa's faces simultaneously went white. Will just stared.

"Dreams, to not knowing how to work a phone," he gestured to an iPhone laying on the bedstand. "All things that would say we're crazy, but we're not." His eyes latched on Tessa. "We don't belong here."

"Then. . . Where do we belong?" Charlotte whispered, shocking Will.

She felt it too. His eyes moved to Tessa Gray's face, pale with shock. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"We need to find the Shadowhunters," Jem said plainly. "The nearest ones we can find."

Before anyone could question, an unfamiliar voice broke in again. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

The strange nurse was smirking at them from where he leaned against a wall in the corner, no longer wearing scrubs but. . . parachute pants? And a sequined top. Will didn't know how to process this.

"You lot don't belong in this _century_ let alone this life," he said, moving towards them, looking amused. "And I'm surprised it took James Carstairs to figure it out. I've been assuming this on and off dream romance," he gestured between Will and Tessa. "Would take off just like it oh so dramatically did way back in the day." He rolled his eyes. "As if I need to give advice about _that_ all over again."

"Who are you?" Tessa whispered, hands unconsciously having found one of Jem's. Will didn't register.

The strange man grinned. "My name is Magnus Bane. And I'd like to suggest a revision. We're going to find shadowhunters to deal with this yes, the sick boy's," he gestured lazily to Jem. "- right. But not the nearest." His eyes flashed. "How would you all like to take a trip to New York?"


	11. Nate Goes Overboard

_"Let me give you a piece of advice. The handsome young fellow who's trying to rescue you from a hideous fate is never wrong. Not even if he says the sky is purple and made of hedgehogs."_

* * *

Tessa picked up the shampoo bottle and dumped way too much onto her hand. She sighed. Reaching up a hand she rubbed it into her thick brown hair, scrubbing at it fiercely. She'd turned on the water much too hot and it was broiling her back, but she was too lost in thought to notice.

It was Saturday morning; four more days of school had passed and she'd felt she'd learned nothing, Her hand ached so badly she thought she'd never sign autographs again and she'd ha to sprint from the paparazzi to her car twice (so much for Aunt Harriet's alleged 'secrecy'). She'd never gotten this much _social_ one on one attention from anyone and it was making her sick; dozens of people had invited her to so many parties she was sure over half of them had to be made up, and she'd been asked out so many times it no longer felt bad to just say a blatant no and walk away.

Aunt Harriet's idea of what was good for her and her own clearly weren't the same. At all.

She was happier though; infinitely. It felt completely foreign to her and yet deep down, like some different, sleeping Tessa inside her, every moment she spent with Charlotte, Jem, or, even. . . she swallowed, Will. It felt like. . . home. In the strangest way possible.

She picked up a razor and looked down at it. It felt strange in her hand but this didn't frighten her like it had before. They were going to New York. She was going home, and she was going to figure out what was wrong with her. And even if she never did, was it screwed up to feel fine being insane as long as other people were insane with you?

 _Shadowhunters._ The word rung in her mind like a bell. Of all the things Magnus had vaguely described to them, this had sounded the most familiar. What they were, she still didn't know. All she knew was. . . she wasn't supposed to be here, she was supposed to be in some other time. It made her guts tense up like she was free falling. How much of her life was actually real? They didn't even belong here, to what she'd always known. She, Jem, Charlotte, and Will.

 _Will._ William Herondale, the boy who'd broken into her final concert and made himself unforgettable. He'd spent the whole discussion at her side, not even touching her, but still she felt her stomach twist. She didn't know how she knew, but there was a voice in the back of her mind that whispered he must have hated her in their other life. He wouldn't speak to her except cordially, and one incident of his hand brushing hers as he held open the hospital door for her remained in her mind. He'd tensed up as if he'd been shot or cursed, not looking at her, not saying a word goodbye before he took off down the hall. If that didn't scream 'I hated you in another life' Tessa didn't really know what did.

Jem was a different story. Staring at her like he knew something, watching her with a total unhidden gaze (she felt embarrassed just thinking about it). He'd spoken to her so gently, like he was patient- It reminded her of the way a teacher would treat a student who was just on the edge of understanding a problem: He was waiting for her to get it. But get what? Get that when they'd sat together, her by his hospital bed and talked she'd kept reaching out her hand to cover his without thinking, then pulling it back with a blush. Get that he'd shyly asked her if she owned any necklaces, then looked embarrassed when she'd looked bewildered and asked what kind. It made absolutely no sense but then, nothing did these days.

Charlotte had asked her out to coffee after they'd left Jem to recover. She'd seemed incredibly nice, and didn't even bat an eye at Tessa's surprise that she was married so young. Tessa had taken an intense liking to her almost immediately.

The world was a bit of a mess at the moment. And she couldn't think of how to understand it all without going and looking for it. Maybe it was stupid to follow these people she barely knew. But she didn't feel that, at this point, she had anything to lose.

She climbed out of the shower, humming a bit as she grabbed a towel, rubbing hard at her hair. She got dressed quickly, still humming to herself as she threw open the door.

She was so shocked she screamed.

Nate Gray stood, leaning in the doorway, inches away from her, with a terse expression on his face.

She clasped a shocked hand to her mouth, catching her breath. "Nate, what the hell? You couldn't have waited for the bathroom two feet away from the door?"

"Oh, I wasn't waiting for the bathroom," he said lazily, looking at his nails. "I was waiting for you." He met her eyes with a hard expression.

She put a hand on her hip and scowled. "Well," she said, glaring at him. "You startled me. Couldn't you have waited ten seconds?"

"No," he said flatly. He grabbed her wrist tightly, and jerked her from the doorway.  
"Nate!" she let out, glaring at him furiously and tugging at her wrist. "Stop it! What's wrong with you?"

"I need to show you something, Tessie," he said, tugging on her wrist hard and pulling her down the hall.

He dragged her all the way to her room, still not letting her go once they stopped in front of her door.

"What the hell is this?"

"That's what I want to ask you," he said darkly, pushing open her door. There, on her bed, lay a suitcase. Packed.

She swallowed hard. She hadn't told either Nate or Aunt Harriet that she was leaving.

"I was just. . ." she trailed off, desperately wracking her mind for an excuse.

"Oh, I know exactly what you were doing," he snapped, letting her go, walking forward into her room.

She rubbed her wrist and looked at him in confusion. "You do?"

"Yes. Being a damned coward," he said through clenched teeth, his hands fists. "Running away from all the responsibility you owe to this family and to your career-"

"I ended my career," she deadpanned, watching him with a suspicious clench in her stomach. She'd known this wasn't over. "I don't have any responsibility to it now-"

"We know that was never agreed upon!" he exploded. "You just decided you wanted to be selfish and throw the rest of us under the bus and run off on a little high school adventure-"

"I did no such thing!" she yelled back, outraged.

"-you don't even care if we go broke or-"

"'Go broke'?" she repeated incredulously. "Do you know how much money my career has made us?" She rubbed her head with a hand. "Nate, don't get offended, but my career and the money it's made us is the reason you're 19 with no intention of going to college or getting a damn job!"

He stared at her, face going red as he clenched his fists. "Yes, go broke, Tessa! We're living on the remnants of what that 'career' made us!"

She stared at him, face going blank. "What do you mean 'living on the remnants'? I made us millions."

He turned his face away, not looking at her. "Yes, well, it's not there anymore."

The world seemed to collapse at her feet. Her mouth fell open. "What did you do?" she whispered, voice hoarse.

"Nothing," he snapped defensively. "Nothing I couldn't have done if you'd just continued your damn career like planned!"

"You gambled it off," she said in a hushed voice. "You screwed us all over."

His face changed its hue to an unnatural purple. "DON'T TALK ABOUT ME AS IF I'M THE ONE IN THE WRONG WHEN YOU-"

"When I what?" she yelled back, feeling, to her own anger, tears stinging behind her eyes. "Took care of our family by doing something I absolutely hated when you couldn't be bothered? By making us enough money to live on for years so Aunt Harriet wouldn't have to work at a laundromat in a tiny New York apartment so we could go to school?"

Nate ran a face over his hand with a long breath. "I'm not going to argue with you, Tessa," he said in a calm, hard voice. "And as your older sibling I'm making the call. I'm not going to let you screw up our lives like this." He moved to the door quickly, before she could react and grabbed the knob.

"Wait, Nate-"

"You're not going anywhere, Tessa," he said grimly. "I'm sorry but it's for the best."

She couldn't make it to the door before he'd closed it, and as she futilely tugged on the knob, she heard it lock, and fell to her knees in shock.

She sat there for a moment before moving to her nightstand and grabbing her phone. She dialed a number quickly.

"Gabriel?" she asked, eye on her bedroom window. "It's Tessa. I need. . . a big favor."

"Remind me never to agree to do anything for you again," Gabriel said as he limped back to his car, Tessa already in front of him, suitcase in hand.

"I am really sorry about your ankle," she put in, looking genuine. "I didn't know the ivy wasn't strong enough."

He muttered some choice phrases under his breath before climbing in the driver's side. He started the car and took off down the street. "So," he said with a sigh. "Am I allowed to ask why I saved you from where you were locked in your bedroom?"

She glanced down at her suitcase on her lap. "I'm going somewhere. My brother-" She let out a long breath. "He didn't want me to leave. He wants me to stay and continue my career."

"Pop star career?"

She gave him a look.

"Just asking. I didn't know if you were secretly an accountant or something."

"I'm not. Just for future reference."

"Good to know."

He kept his eyes on the road and stayed in silence for a moment before asking: "Are you running away?"

"No," she said quickly. "I'm just- It sounds like that but I have to go somewhere. I'm trying. . . to figure something out."

He rolled his eyes. "That's what they all say."  
"Oh?" she asked, turning on him, eyebrow raised. "And how many runaway cases have you dealt with?"

He snorted. "Too many. Tatiana must've tried to 'run away' at least a dozen times when we were kids." He glanced over at her. "At least tell me you're not so much of an idiot as to fly somewhere on your own."

She laughed. "No, no. I'm not. Right now I'm going to Charlotte's but then I'm meeting Will at the airport-"

Gabriel slammed his foot to the break so hard, Tessa was flung into the dashboard.

"Good grief, Gabriel, what the-"

He turned to her, face white, hands clenched on the wheel. "Will? Will Herondale?"

She looked at him, sensing a mood change, and wary of it. "Yes. . ."

"That bastard," he said quietly first, then, shouting and punching the wheel, furiously: "That _BASTARD!"_

Tessa simply stared. "What on earth is wrong with you?"

"He's a no good cheater that's what's wrong," Gabriel seethed, teeth clenched. "You can be late to the airport, Tessa. We're taking a detour." And with that, he made a U-Turn and spun them around, towards William Herondale's home.

* * *

 _Hey guys! Thanks for continuing reading LIT! :) I'd really love it if y'all could answer the question on last chapter's author's note (aka as this sort of thing). Thanks for all the new follows and favorites it means a **lot.** So because I want to remain true to the character's I'm going to reread some TID and (not to spoil anything butttt. . . TMI) just to keep updated. If there's anything you really WISH would happen, please comment it and I'll get right on it! Keep reading and enjoy! :)_


	12. Will Screws Up

_PLEASE comment your thoughts on the story! :)_

* * *

" _Five," she said. Her lips and cheeks were flushed, but her gaze was steady._

" _Five?" he echoed blankly._

" _My rating," she said and smiled at him._

* * *

"Gabriel, as I've been saying the entire way here, you've got it wrong-"

"Move aside, Tessa," said Gabriel grimly, as he gently pushed her to the side of the Herondale's front step.

Tessa sighed and held up her hands in defeat. "The only person you'll embarrass is yourself."

"No, the only person I'll embarrass will be Will Herondale," he said as he shoved the doorbell hard at least a dozen times. "When I punch his face in and he cries for mercy."

Tessa rolled her eyes. "I can't say I know him well but I very much doubt that."

Gabriel ignored this. He hit the doorbell of the small townhome again. Hard.

"Come out you, bastard," he muttered. "Come out you sick son of a-"

The door flew open.

"Son of a what now?" a voice that was most certainly not Will's asked, sounding a mix of annoyed and amused.

Gabriel's mouth fell open.

There on the doorstep was not Will Herondale at all, but a girl.

She was very disconcerting. With long black hair tied in a loose braid and blue eyes that shone with an intense satirical gleam she reminded him a lot of all the things he hated most about Will Herondale, even in jean shorts and a faded t-shirt. But this Will Herondale was. . . incredibly pretty?

He didn't realize he was standing there staring with a twisted expression of horror and awe on his face until Tessa tugged his arm.

She had a bemused expression on her face and a hand on her hip. "What were you saying about punching his face until he cried for mercy?"

Gabriel paled and turned back to the girl with a weak, what he hoped was a smile. "Erm . . . Is Will Herondale here?" he asked, his voice cracking.

She shook her head, leaning against the door with a hip. "Nope. He left early this morning without saying a word. You can't really ever know what Will's doing these days." She looked bitter. "But you could come in and wait if you liked. I'm guessing you're from his-" Her eyes darted past Gabriel to Tessa before going wide with shock. Her eyes became an O.

"You're Tessa Gray!" she nearly shouted, looking stunned.

Tessa smiled slightly, looking a bit self conscious. "Oh, yes. That's me."

"Please!" the girl said, looking close to bouncing out of the doorway with excitement. "Come in!"

Gabriel didn't look at Tessa before following the girl inside eagerly. He heard her laugh behind him as someone shut the door.

* * *

"Hey, buddy, watch where you're going will you?"

William Herondale ignored the jibe, keeping walking. He was in one of the dirtier sides of London, his phone at home, money in his pocket, and no clear method of self defense against any attacker. The danger was intoxicating. And he wanted to feel intoxicated.

He walked past a series of homeless people lining the streets, all staring at him greedily. He walked lazily, not the brisk pace that the few nicely dressed people in that area took, with their phones out in obvious easy access, 999 a dial away. Will smelled the stench of the area with a sick sort of delighted loathing. He kept walking.

The E-Z Convenience store was not a place of luxury but a place known for a selection of quality items that, to put it plain, mainly consisted of drugs. And it was Will's destination.

The bell dinged, announcing his arrival.

The convenience store was small, shelves of instant soups, ice cream bars, drinks, beer, lining the walls as well as people quite unlike Will. He knew he looked like a preppy boy from a well to do family. He wanted to be anything else at the moment. A heavily makeuped woman who looked as though she'd tried the paint equivalent of botox much too enthusiastically, looked up at him from the counter. He took a breath and approached her.

"What can I get you, toots?" she slurred, chewing on the end of a toothpick.

"A pack of Malboros," he said in a blank voice, slapping a few bills on the counter.

She looked up at him through eyes coated with liner. It reminded him of his girlfriend. "You get an ID, kid?"

"The extra in that stack _is_ my ID," he slurred boldly, shoving the bills towards her.

She cocked a drawn in brow before shrugging, tossing him a pack of cigarettes and turning away.

As he walked out the doors, many eyes followed him, as did a single, thin hand. It grabbed his shoulder.

He turned to face a girl, who couldn't be more than 16, looking up at him through makeup that clearly was designed to make her look older. He could see through that. She was young. And frightened. Yet she was approaching him anyway.

"Have anyone to stay with tonight?" she asked boldly, holding her hand on his shoulder blade. Her brown hair was tied up in a messy bun; she wore a skintight red dress with various stains.

"You mean have I hired a prostitute for tonight yet? No. And I don't plan to."

Her face went red with anger. "How dare you say-"

"The truth?" he asked bluntly. "Look, kid. I might be screwing up my life here but that doesn't mean I like other younger-" he empathized the word, making her flinch. "kids screwing up theirs. Think before you grab random men's shoulders."

He turned away and started walking but she caught up.

"It seems pretty hypocritical to say that when you're clearly the type," she stated, walking briskly beside him.

"'The type'?"

She nodded. "The despairing type. What happened to you to make you that way, huh?"

He stopped walking.

It hurt to think that the first thought that came to mind was Jem holding Tessa Gray's hand, looking up at her with an expression that shot a round of bullet's through Will's gut.

He hadn't stayed around to listen to their plans of leaving town after that.

He would get drunk for real, he would smoke, he would even do unthinkable- He wouldn't go to New York.

He pulled out a cigarette and flicked on his lighter. He inhaled deeply and had to fight against the immediate urge to cough. Disgusting. He took another whiff.

"Where are you going?"

He turned around to stare at her. Her hair was coming loose from the bun across her face, her eyes worried.

"Home, I guess." He didn't know where he would go.

"I'm coming," she said firmly, starting walking.

He rolled his eyes and grabbed her by the shoulder. "No, you aren't. You're going to stop wandering around looking for a way to destroy your life and get somewhere better. Somewhere that isn't my house."

He took a long drag on the cigarette and imagined it polluting his system. He could feel it burning his lungs, making his insides feel tainted, spreading what he imagined as a dark, spiteful smoke through his entire body- Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

He didn't look to see if the girl was following him as he walked along the dark streets homeward, didn't look to see that she was indeed, following him with keen eye, watching him with the look of a girl who couldn't help herself.

* * *

He made it home after a long draining walk and four more cigarettes than a first time smoker should smoke. His lungs burned but he felt accomplished.

At least until he walked into his living room and saw Cecily sitting with Gabriel Lightwood and Theresa Gray, all three staring directly at him.

"William Herondale, I have a bone to pick with you, you-"

"Will, why. . . do you smell like smoke?"

"Hello, Will."

Tessa's final comment, a quiet, bitter sounding greeting sent him reeling.

"Gabriel, it's always nice to see a friendly idiot," he began, pretending to examine his fingers. "Cecily, I smell like smoke because I just smoked a pack and Tessa-" he cut off glancing at her. "Hello to you too."

The room sat still for a moment.

"Will-" Cecily cut in, staring at him with a furious expression. "You knew Tessa Gray and didn't _tell_ me?"

"Well 'know' is a bit of a vague word for it. And to be honest, the explanation is none of your business, Cecily."

She opened her mouth as if to respond angrily but then her eyes darted to the sofa and she swallowed it.

He smiled. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Is this an intervention?"

Gabriel Lightwood stood, looking resigned. "You could say that. Except I expect it to be a bit more violent," his eyes darted to the girls staring up at him. "Er- That is, if there weren't girls here I'd-"

Will's eyes twinkled darkly. "Harbouring a soft spot for Tessa Gray are we, Lightworm?" his voice sounded sharp as knives even to his own ears.

Gabriel blanched, glancing back at Tessa. "Tessa? Absolutely not. I didn't ask her to follow me around-"

Tessa shrugged, a slight smile on her lips. "It's true."

Will moved a step towards him, fake smile falling away. "Then what are you here for, Lightwood?"

Gabriel's gaze darkened. "Well, speaking on people who are clearly in love with Tessa, you're my sister's boyfriend and you're running away with another girl." He clenched his fists. "And if you think I'm going to let that pass you're an idiot."

Will laughed. "Well, I don't know who you got your information from but it must've been someone with not much of a brain."

"Listen, Herondale-"

Will let out a cold laugh. "And you think Tatiana would care if I was?" he said bitterly. "That girl has been in love with me since she was in the nursery, I doubt she could muster the strength to break up with me if I-"

Gabriel's face was steadily turning a darker hue of purple as Will spoke so it was to the relief of several bystander parties that Cecily's brows chose that moment to draw together suddenly. She stood. "There's someone at the window!" she said loudly, pointing.

All eyes went to the window simultaneously. There, peeking through the side of the curtains, stood the girl Will had met not two hours before.

"Who is that?" Gabriel asked, expression bewildered.

"A prostitute," said Will plainly. "She followed me back here, I assume."

Suddenly Gabriel didn't seem to care that there were girls there. There was just enough time for Tessa to see Gabriel's furious expression and she and Cecily to scream: "NO!" before Gabriel threw himself at Will and a loud crack resounded throughout the room.

* * *

 _Hey guys! Wow this chapter looked longer to me when I was writing it. Am I missing a chunk? Sorry I've been kind of off my game lately (we're taking my brother to college this week so it's been kinda hectic). Anyway, as always, I love love **love** comments, so please keep me updated on what you think of the story! Keep reading and, as always, follow if you like what you're seeing!_


	13. Hospital Coffee & Confusion

" _They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the grief is finite."_

* * *

Gabriel's arm was broken. That much was evident. Will only wished his sister wasn't subjected to the horrible array of swear words thrown out in the midst of towing him to the hospital.

Tessa had been the one to demand they take him. Will had been inclined to let the insufferable Lightwood suffer the consequences of trying to maul him, but pointing this out to Tessa proved to be useless. She had looked at him with such a fire in her eyes, such an intense fuming determination practically radiating from her that he'd simply handed her the car keys and suggested they avoid downtown traffic.

The prostitute had left no trace of her following Will's home after her appearance and cause of his having to break the Lightwood's arm, which was just as well. Cecily had demanded to go with them to the hospital, but to this Will was rock solid. He might not be able to control Theresa Gray, but with his own little sister, he hoped he had the upper hand.

Now he sat, driving directly into downtown, beside Theresa Gray in Gabriel Lightwood's car, the Lightworm in question lying in the back seat and uttering deep moans of agony. Tessa had handed the keys back to him without meeting his eyes, insisting that she couldn't drive backwards. He'd seen that she looked furious as she stared at the ground. He could see her now. Out of the corner of his vision he saw her gnaw on a nail nervously, cheeks slightly flushed. He forced a picture of Tatiana into his brain and forced his focus on the road.

They didn't talk the whole way there- Will didn't know if this made it better or much much worse.

The hospital staff were kind and apparently took even total prats such as Gabriel, not even blinking an eye at Will's interruption of Gabriel's indepth explanation of how the arm in question had gotten broken besides tossing Will a rather suspicious glance. Not that he minded. What he did indeed mind was the fact that he was now sitting with Tessa Gray in the middle of an empty hospital waiting room, unable to think of anything but the fact that her hair was emitting a scent that smelled suspiciously like strawberry shampoo. He wanted- in short- to shoot himself.

This went on for quite a while.

"So," her voice spoke suddenly, interrupting his counting of the amount of blinks the light above them emitted, startling him. "New York."

"What about it?" he replied, voice dry.

"We're going aren't we?" she turned to look at him for the first time as he glanced at her, grey eyes wide and curiously nervous.

He didn't answer for a moment, preferring to remain silent. When it was clear she would wait indefinitely for an answer, he spoke. "I don't know what got it into you or my idiot friend's heads that I would follow a madman to a country I don't know, but it must've been something incredibly convincing that I completely missed."

She cocked a brow in surprise but simply pursed her lips and didn't respond.

She surprised him when she finally spoke by not mentioning the past topic at all.

"You really should apologize to Gabriel you know," she said suddenly, voice chastising.

"He deserved it," he said automatically. "Besides, it wasn't unwarranted. He attacked me first. I believe that's classified as self defense."

She leaned her elbow on the arm rest, chin on her palm and stared him with such a piercing gaze he lost his breath for a moment. "Why don't you speak like everyone else, Will?" she asked quietly.

"Excuse me?" he responded, dazed.

"Why don't you talk like a normal kid? I've never met anyone who talks like you. You talk like- like you're 87."

The dazed dream ended abruptly. His gaze went hard and a nervous smile flitted to her features. "No offense," she added.

"I've always felt the concept of 'no offense' extremely stupid," he said, glaring up at the ceiling as he slouched in his chair, hands folded in his lap. "Whenever anyone says it it's always after something overtly offensive."

"'Overtly,'" she repeated, sounding amused.

"Overtly," he said again, voice hard and annoyed.

She kept staring at him with the same curious expression and he felt himself grow uncomfortable. How could she know that his thoughts were unconsciously going to the lock of her dark hair curling on her collar bone? The few speckles spotting her bare arms, the way her lips moved when she spoke? How could she know the sense of absolute certainty in his chest that she was meant to be in his arms, beside him when she went to bed every night and in his arms when she woke up? And not in the way that most people would assume. Not in the way he knew he was supposed to think about it. Nothing more than to be next to her, to be sure she was safe. To know she was, every bit of her, his.

He caught his mind toying with their names together and felt guilty to be caught by _himself_. He thought of all the reasons he was a mess then, a sense of absolute disgust with himself hitting him like a monster truck. He turned away abruptly to stare at the light once more.

She seemed to have grasped the mood change and remained silent for only a moment before changing the topic once more.

"About New York. I would have thought you would be willing to try anything to understand it all," she spoke up defiantly. "You more than anyone else. Madman leading you there or not."

He didn't look at her. "Where did you get that idea?" he asked testily.

"You said you knew me," she said, startling him into staring at her again. "You said- You expected- I knew too. So.,-" she swallowed. "I think- the things I suspect, you feel for sure. So I can't imagine how you could just ignore that and pretend to be something you can't really be."

"You remembered that," he said blankly.

"Of course I did."

"Well, you didn't show it when we met before-"

They held each other's gazes for much too long.

He stood, moving away from her. "Would you like some hospital coffee?" he asked, hand in his pocket for his wallet. "I've heard it's absolutely disgusting."

"I'd love some," she said, her expression giving no hint of anything but pleasantries and gratitude. But he heard the pity in her voice, heard it and despised it, and wondered if underneath the pleasantries he didn't see a little bit of sadness too.

* * *

She didn't turn out to need the coffee for when he came back she was asleep. He paused a moment before sitting down next to her, the two coffees in his was curled into a ball, her chin resting in the crook of her elbow, her knees pulled to her chest. It felt invasive to sit down next to a sleeping person, and he couldn't help but notice that she looked much less determined, much less fiery, much less like an international pop-star and more like just a-

He sat down several seats away.

The hospital coffee turned out not to be too horrible for what he assumed was instant. With enough cream to drown it, it was halfway decent, though he couldn't imagine, as he drank it, why he was sitting in a hospital waiting room, waiting for a prat he hated to be tied up by some nurse. At least, he didn't until his eyes snagged on the sleeping figure a few seats away from him and he felt suddenly tired.

He didn't know exactly how much time had passed (the waiting room clock was busted) but did know how many magazines he'd been through- 16, and he knew way more about wedding planning than he'd ever wished to- before Gabriel Lightwood stalked into the room, looking about the temperament of a soaking wet cat. His arm was in a sling, his face in a scowl, and he looked like the last person in the world he'd like to see was Will Herondale.

The assertion of Will's seemed to be correct. He stopped stock still and stared at Will, scowling. "Why the hell are you here?"

Will let out a yawn and stretched, letting the most recent edition of Bride Weekly fall out of his hand to the floor. "Good evening, Lightworm. Feeling better?"

"No one asked you to stay," Gabriel repeated forcefully, voice almost a growl.

"No," Will admitted. "But I have to say I think she might have broken my arm if I tried to leave. I got the feeling she felt you'd been done a great injustice."

Gabriel looked at him strangely. "Why do you sound drunk?"

"Excuse me?"

"Like you've suddenly turned into a snob from one of Tat's old English soap operas."

Will rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. "Why does it seem like the whole world has to take issue with the way I talk today?"

Gabriel stiffened. "To be honest, I don't give a damn about how you talk as long as you get away from my sister."

"Well then we have a problem," Will said dryly. "Because I don't do threats."

"If you think that was a threat, let me make it a bit clearer for you, Herondale-"

A loud sigh from the seat between the two stopped this possible display of force from occurring. A very sleepy Tessa Gray sat up from her curled up position on the hospital chair and blinked around her. "Whaisit?"

Gabriel glanced at her once before seeming to decide he might ignore her. "I want you away from her and away from Tessa, because she might not know it but you're trash that won't do any good for her-"

"Excuse me?" Tessa cut in more cognitively this time, sitting up and rubbing her mussed up hair with a hand. "What don't I know?"

"That he," Gabriel said with vehemence. "Is a cheater. He's dating my sister and I know he's trying to make a play for you-"

She looked at Will with the expression of one who was just told she would fall in love with her brother. "Gabriel, don't be an idiot. Will wouldn't date me if I was the last woman left in the world." Her expression turned wry. "Isn't that right, Will?"

"Oh, so right," Will said automatically, hearing himself as if from a distance.

"And I'm sure he treats your sister very well. From what Jem told me, it sounds like he's deep in love with her."

"Bloody liar, that's what he-"

"Gabriel." Tessa cut in more forcefully. "Let it go."

At this, Gabriel turned a dark hue of purple, attempting to cross his arms without thinking before letting out a soft cry and grimacing.

They left and Tessa found a moment to shoot Will a reassuring smile as they climbed into the dark car. He couldn't muster the strength to return it.

* * *

 _Hey guys! Long time no see- thank you for putting up with the fact that I have had the busiest first full week of school ever (I survived but barely). I thought I'd give a bit of Wessa for y'all. I promise I won't abandon this fic, I'm going to keep updating :) Thank you to all of you who have held on! Keep reading and share it around if you like it! Also, I love it when anyone takes the time to comment their thoughts or their hopes for the fic! ~k.m._


	14. Tessa Spends the Night

" _It is as great a thing to love as to be loved. Love is not something that can be wasted."_

* * *

Tessa didn't question it when, after having dropped a fuming Gabriel at his home, ignoring his protests that he wouldn't let a Herondale touch his car, not even to drive Tessa home, Will dropped her at her front doorstep. She couldn't think anything but that she was glad to be out of the hot, awkward car, and not feel the press of the words no one was saying hurt her head. So, it wasn't until he drove away that she realized she wasn't supposed to _be_ there. She had completely forgotten she'd run away not eight hours earlier.

She had took the plans to be immediate; she'd assumed, and now she felt like an idiot staring up at her townhouse and thinking it, they would all be as desperate as she to leave, to find the answers, to escape- It hadn't occurred to her that Will wouldn't want to go. That she had no idea if Charlotte and Jem or anyone had any intention of following through on the quest which she thought had driven an intense desire to find the truth into all of their heads, not just hers.

It appeared she was wrong.

So, now she was an idiot, standing in front of a house she couldn't return to. They must have realized she was gone. She could only hope and pray that they wouldn't call the police and report her missing. But while she could run, could disguise herself and hide, she couldn't crawl back into her room like a coward- She felt her pride stung just at the thought. She couldn't go back and now it was twilight, in an empty London street, and she had nowhere to go.

And her suitcase was still in the back of Gabriel's car.

She fought against the flutter of panic that rose in her chest. She had been an idiot, more than anyone else she'd actually _thought_ \- And now where would she go? She'd have to go back, at least to get some clothes, at least to- Where would she _eat?_ She was suddenly painfully conscious of the ache in her stomach, remembering that she hadn't eaten almost anything that day, except a meager breakfast before she had showered. Why did that feel like a lifetime ago?

She sat down on the curb, feeling numb. She suddenly felt lower than low, like she was five years old again and all she wanted was to throw herself into Aunt Harriet's arms and know it would be alright. But it wouldn't. She remembered Will's swift agreement to her accusation that she was the last woman he'd want in the world. She tried to tell herself she didn't care. She didn't know him. She wasn't special, or from anywhere different, or a person from a different time stuck in her own twenty-first century body, she was just Tessa, she was an idiot, and she was stuck on a curb for what would probably be forever.

She actually laughed at loud, a little deranged laugh but still a laugh, at the realization she was on a curb again. Just like she had been before any of this had really started. Crying on a curb. Maybe curbs could be her always.

"What's so funny?" a voice asked good naturedly from behind her.

She nearly screamed, leaping to her feet and spinning around to face the smiling, angelic face of James Carstairs, looking pale and sickly, but in what could only be defined as a good mood.

She clutched at her chest, trying to regain her sanity. "You- holy crap- You terrified me!"

He laughed at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners, looking vaguely apologetic. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't have said something if I'd thought you were so deep in thought."

"I- I was sort of," she admitted, staring at him in the remnants of her shock.

He wore yet another pull over cardigan, no dress shirt underneath, the edge of his pale collarbone visible at the neck. He held a cane loosely in his right hand, a gnarled wooden thing that felt wrong with the picture of him. She glanced back up at him and saw that his mouth had tightened into a line, the crinkles on his eyes gone.

"The hospital gave me one," he explained a bit roughly. "But it was plastic and-" He sighed. "I went out and bought a new one. Just in case."

"Oh," she said dazedly. "I completely forgot. Are you feeling better? I still don't know what they decided was wrong to make you faint like that."

He didn't seem to much appreciate this comment and looked up at the lamp post beside them firmly. "Oh, just bad health. Always had it." He said this briskly, his tone fairly begging no further conversation on it.

She didn't press it. "So, what exactly are you doing here?" she asked, rubbing her arms as a rare icy wind blew past them.

His eyes widened for a second before he flushed slightly. "Oh, I was just looking for you," he admitted, somewhat cautiously. He glanced around her face as if to try and sense any possible awkwardness or unwelcomeness to this news. "I came by taxi," he added as awkward way of explanation.

Her mind flew back to the last time they'd spoken: how she'd sat by his bed as everyone filed from the hospital room, how she'd tripped over her words in asking for his number. He'd simply smiled. The digits were still plugged into her phone.

She hadn't called though. In this crazy day, she'd almost forgotten they'd met, almost forgotten the feeling she'd had that he was something-

Hope was born in her chest. She wasn't the only one who had put stock into Magnus Bane's words. She remembered the look on Jem's face when he woke up, the words he'd spoken to her.

"For me?" she heard herself saying, her tone displaying the abundance of feeling she'd gathered in the last minute.

He nodded, smiling slightly. "I was hoping to ask you if you'd like to get some tea," he said slowly, eyeing her.

The request was so simple so normal that when her eyes caught on her, short term but still loving, home, she had to fight against the shaking in her voice. "I would but I think I need to find a place to stay for the night before it get's too late," she explained.

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

She sucked in a shaking breath before the whole story poured out. She told much more than she meant to. About Nate's reaction when she first said she wanted to take a break, about how her dreams of how school might be were so far from accurate it was laughable, how Nate had locked her in her room on finding her suitcase. Jem simply listened, a finger to his lips, his cane in the crook of his arm, brow furrowed in an understanding look.

"Well," he finally said at the end of her speech, looking resigned. "There's only one thing to it. You'll have to come home with me."

She stared at him, dazed. She hadn't been expecting that. "Excuse me?"

He flushed darkly. "I mean if you want to," he said quickly. "I know it would be improper what with us being-" He blinked, turned his gaze back to her, looking startled as if just remembering something. "I mean. . . If you want to," he repeated awkwardly.

Tessa stared at him.

"Charlotte would be there of course," he added, looking mortified.

"You can't imagine how good that sounds," Tessa cut in with a grateful smile before he could ramble out any more additions. "And here I was planning to sleep on the street." She paused. "But are you sure you have room for me?"

He blinked at her, looking fairly dazed. "Erm- Yes! Yes, we do. There's a sofa bed in the front hall. If you don't mind that. Or you can have my bed-" He didn't look at her, and appeared to be in actual pain. ". . .and I'll sleep on that." He stared at his cane as if to ask it the answer to these questions.

Tessa almost laughed. "Anything is fine. Thank you so much."

"It's no trouble at all," he said, sounding relieved, and offering her a slight smile. "Shall I catch us a taxi?"

She thought of the note she had given Will, realizing Jem, too, spoke as if he was 87, but swallowed it. "Yes, that sounds perfect."

* * *

Jem's neighborhood housed just the sort of homes Tessa had always dreamed of living in. Sweet little cottages and townhomes, people who clearly loved their gardens; it was just the sort of place any child would be lucky to grow up in and just the sort of place Tessa had always wanted to. The lamp posts held hanging garden pots packed with brightly colored flowers, the homes made up for their shabbiness with their lovable character. She could just imagine watching small children bike up and down the streets, families having block parties, young couples, just married, moving in, excited to start their lives and their families. She thought of a young Jem experiencing that kind of childhood and felt immensely pleased.

So it was, as they climbed out of the musty taxi and onto the sidewalk, that she turned to him with a smile and said, "You must've been a happy boy."

He turned away from paying the cabbie, sliding his wallet back into his pocket, looking surprised. "Excuse me?"

"You must've been so happy," she repeated, gesturing around her. "Growing up here. It's so homey."

"Oh," he said simply, looking around with a blank stare. "It definitely is, but, unfortunately, I didn't grow up here."

She frowned. "Oh, then where did you grow up?"

He laughed, but the sound came out bitter. "That would be a long list."

"You moved around a lot?"

"Yes," he said quietly, looking up at the townhouse in front of them. "That's it."

Tessa sensed there was more than he was letting on but didn't question it. Jem seemed grateful as he led her up to the house in peaceful silence.

It was night now, the sun completely gone, and it was in the dark that Jem fumbled in his pocket for his key.

The door slid open and he reached over to flick on a light, illuminating the hallway. It was a cozy narrow space. mid-century style, with a distinctly antique smell that Tessa enjoyed inhaling. A small worn out rug was all that adorned it, but it was classic.

"Charlotte?" Jem called loudly, frowning at the silence that was his response. "Charlotte?"

Tessa followed him, as he turned on lights as they went, into a tiny nook of a kitchen, where he flicked on the lights. He pulled out a chair for Tessa with a slight smile. She sat down, glancing up at him. It was strangely quiet, Tessa couldn't help thinking as she rubbed her arms self-consciously, and the quiet was incredibly loud

"Charlotte will be down in a second I'm sure," he explained needlessly, twisting his cane in his hands. "Would you like something to drink while we wait? Tea, coffee, water. . " He trailed off as his eyes roamed the kitchen. They seemed to catch on something as he strode across the small room and grabbed a piece of paper off the fridge that was stuck to it. Tessa watched him as he read it.

He glanced up at her, looking rather awkward, and swallowed. "It. . . seems like Charlotte is out for the evening. She and Henry- He's her husband- took a night out, it says. . . They won't be back till Sunday."

Tessa simply nodded, wishing the sense of awkwardness that had bloomed since they walked in the door together would die out. She shivered, goosebumps running up her arms and back.

Jem stared at her, looking rather like a deer caught in the headlights. "May I get you something? Or would you like to see where you'll stay?"

Tessa glanced at him, wondering why he kept looking at her with that expression. Had she done something? "You said you have a sofa bed?" she said good naturedly.

"Oh, no, I couldn't let you sleep on that," he said quickly. "You can have my room."

"Oh, no," she said quickly. "Don't let me mess up your evening-"

"No! It isn't any trouble!" he said quickly, offering her a smile. "Just let me do it for you," he said more gently.

"Alright," she heard herself say softly, watching him with wide eyes.

They stood in silence for a moment.

Tessa moved to stand up at the same time Jem moved quickly to pull out her chair for her which resulted in a quick tumult, during which her foot slipped. Jem, with lightning quick reflexes, stuck an arm around her waist, stopping her fall and pulling her close to him.

Their eyes met. Tessa stopped breathing.

Jem's eyes were so close to hers, his lips so close she could taste his breath. Her heart went pounding like a sledgehammer, shaking her whole body.

"Tessa," Jem whispered suddenly, his eyes burning dark through the silver. "I've- You can't even imagine how much I've-"

He cut himself off, going pale, quickly setting her back on her feet.

 _How much I've_ what, her brain screamed. _How much I've_ what?

"I am so sorry- Let me- I didn't-" He looked at her in horror.

She stared at him, feeling the pumping in her wrists, her neck, gradually die out.

He swallowed. "Your door is the first on the left. I'll-" He stared at her, cheeks flushed now. "I'll be down here."

"Alright," she said weakly. "I- I also- You don't happen to have any spare toothbrushes or anything do you?"

He looked at her in surprise, appearing to have mostly recovered from the moment of earlier. "Oh, that's right. You don't have anything with you do you? You need something to wear to bed." He looked like he was calculating something painful. "I'll get you one of my shirts. I think, it- It will probably be long enough on you to work."

"No, no, I can sleep in jeans-"

"I'll bring it up in a few minutes," he insisted giving her a slight reassuring smile, seeming to have regained a bit of himself. "Don't even worry about it."

She just smiled weakly at him before starting for the stairs, a hand on her pounding heart with shocked eyes as soon as he was out of sight.

* * *

Tessa found the room with ease, opening the door to darkness and flipping on a lightswitch. It was almost completely bare, neat and tidy. A bed, a dresser, a closet, some sort of instrument case. Papers stacked on a neat and tidy desk. She was almost relieved. Staying in an incredibly personal room almost felt like staying in a piece of that person, she thought miserably as she sat herself down on the bed, beginning to untie her hair from the ponytail that was now causing her pain. It was for the best that Jem's had nothing in it. She had been almost afraid at what she might've seen- From the few times she'd been in Nate's room she knew that teenage boy's rooms could be disgusting. She hadn't realized how afraid she had been of finding something to corrupt the gentle image of Jem that she'd subconsciously created. She was relieved now that she needn't have worried.

She let herself fall backwards against the mattress and was shocked by the sudden world of smell that engulfed her. Her face was surrounded with the smell that had caused her heart to race moments before. She pushed the pillow to her face and let out a half enraged scream. Her mind was driving her insane. The day had been long. It was almost impossible to believe she had been at home, having her own room, not a missing person, only this morning. Could it really have been such a short amount of time?

She looked around the room once more and was immediately disappointed by the lack of books. There would be nothing to do to draw her mind off of how mortifying she had just been. Nothing to do but- She took out her phone and flipped it open, extremely relieved at remembering it's presence in her back pocket. She opened iMessage and stared at the screen. A dark cloud of realization hit her as she went through her three contacts, scanning them over and over again with her eyes, as if she might've missed one. Nate, Aunt Harriet, and now Jem. She was an international pop-star. There had to be more than this.

But there wasn't.

Her eyes stung as she halfheartedly drafted a text to Aunt Harriet, telling her about her day, that she was alright, that she was staying with a friend. She stared at the finished product for quite a few minutes before deleting it. She barely noticed the splatter of water that hit the screen as she watched.

She had no one.

There was a soft knock at the door that sent her furiously scrubbing at her eyes. She had slightest suspicions that, as Jem opened her door and stepped in, she looked like a girl who had just been crying, which was the last thing she wanted to look like.

Jem looked incredibly out of place in his own room as he stuck his head in. He peered at her, and if he noticed the tears he didn't let it on, instead walking over to the bed and holding out a shirt to her.

"This one was just cleaned," he said as way of explanation with a smile. "I think it'll probably do."

"Thank you so much," she said, voice shaking regrettably as she took it. She didn't meet his eyes. "You're being way too nice to me."

"Not at all," she heard him say, his voice gentle, a different tone.

She glanced up at him to see his brow was furrowed. He knelt down beside the bed slowly, not meeting her eyes.

"Tessa-" he began, looking mournful. "I need to apologize."

"Apologize?" she asked in bewilderment. "For what?"

"For- for what it seems I must have done," he said, meeting her eyes, his apologetic and pained. "Inviting you here, Charlotte conveniently being gone. I know- I know what it must have looked like and all I can do is promise you that to- to compromise you-" He grimaced. "Was not at all my intentions, I promise."

It took her a second to understand the meaning of 'compromise' he was intending. She blushed what she was sure was a bright red. "Oh no! I didn't think that for a second!"

"You didn't?" he asked, looking at her, startled and yet, relieved. "I was so sure, especially when I saw your face just now. . . And when I caught you in the kitchen-"

"No!" she interrupted, folding his shirt up in her hands. "Not at all," she said firmly.

He let out a long relieved breath. "Thank goodness. I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable here."

They sat in silence for a moment, though it wasn't awkward this time.

"Jem?" she finally asked quietly, looking down at him.

"Yes?"

She faltered for a moment. "What did you mean when you said that I couldn't imagine. . . How much you. . . And then you stopped?"

Jem froze, hand in his silver hair. He looked as though he fought internally. He had, Tessa noticed, extremely dark circles under his eyes, as though he hadn't slept in days. She longed to reach out and cup his cheek, ask him why he was so tired. Ask what she could do to help.

Jem finally looked up at her, resigned. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"I would believe anything you told me."

He glanced at her cautiously. "It's a bit about. . . what Magnus said," he said slowly, eyeing her to gauge her reaction.

She felt her heart leap. "You talk as if you knew him."

"Well," he paused, eyeing her. ". . . I do. And you too, I'm afraid."

She stared at him. "What do you mean?" she said, not hearing that her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I knew you," he said slowly, his eyes looking all around her face. "In a different place. A different. . . life, almost."

Tessa sat back. She pursed her lips and glanced at him. His expression was dead serious if not a little anxious. She let her mind wrap around what he had said.

"But- How-"

He held up a hand, gently cutting her off. "I think," he said quietly. "It's best if I don't tell you more than that." She met his eyes to see a streak of pain. "At least for now."

"But why?" she whispered, barely daring to breathe.

"Because you don't have a necklace," he said with a sad knowing smile. "And here it isn't the same."

She simply stared, not understanding him at all.

His hand went out and covered hers gently, and he leaned closer. "But you don't need to cry," he whispered gently. "Because even if I won't tell you, you can know," he took a breath. "That there's nothing I wouldn't do for you," he said fervently, reaching up his other hand to gently wipe away a stray tear. "Okay?"

Tessa took a breath before meeting his eyes once more. She gently placed her own small hand over his gently once, holding her face delicately.

"Okay."

* * *

 _Hey guys! I've decided on a schedule for uploading so I don't forget: basically it'll be a new update every Saturday and Sunday but not during the weekdays (which is inevitable when you have an insane amount of school)._

 _ALSO let's celebrate because this is OFFICIALLY the longest chapter of this fic (*yay*)_

 _Anyway, AS ALWAYS I love it when you guys comment, favorite, follow anything (especially comment though because I love to hear feedback from people who actually read my fic!) Anyyyywaaaayyyyy, Wessa or Jessa? ;) You pick._

 _~Max_


	15. Jem's Fiancee

Collapsing into a wobbly kitchen chair, Jem exhaled loudly. He caught a glimpse of the microwave clock from where he sat: 10:42. Not so incredibly late and yet after speaking with Tessa his chest felt so much heavier. By not telling her where they really stood- though he did feel he'd at least hinted at the idea that they might've been more than simply friends- he'd kept the burden of who he really was completely on his shoulders, while risking infuriating her through curiosity. Keeping this from her, knowing she had no idea and therefore could not be culpable for whatever she might do or whatever she might feel for someone else. . .

He'd already been worrying about it. He had noticed the abnormal strain of anxiety in himself at the occasional sighting of her in the school halls with Gabriel Lightwood, who he now knew was the 'sarcastic idiot' she'd been waiting for in the diner on the fateful day she'd met him instead. Knowing that she'd had no idea what the words he'd just spoken to her meant, but trusted him implicitly nonetheless was as comforting as it was disconcerting. He couldn't help but glance at her collarbone at every meeting to see if the familiar pendant he'd given in another life but to the same Tessa might be suddenly hanging around her neck. It never was. But what could he do, realistically? She had little more than an inkling of just how strange their situation was, had no idea kindness she'd just received from what she must consider an acquaintance, letting her stay in his room, lending her a shirt, was really from a fiance who would gladly give her anything and everything he owned.

He could only think of one thing he really could do and that was to get them out of this paradox or whatever it might be- Jem couldn't remember the why or the when involved in how they'd landed in a time over a hundred years in the future. It was unnerving to see, though he saw the knowledge of some sort of wrongness reflected in Will's eyes often, that he really was the only one who knew exactly who they were.

He sighed and plucked his iPhone awkwardly from his pocket. It felt foreign in his grip as his gawky hands, feeling abnormally large and unskilled, plugged in the necessary numbers.

He held it to his ear and waited; the dial tone puncturing the loud silence of the house.

There was a click, then a moment of silence. Jem waited.

"James Carstairs," a voice drawled finally. "I have to say I was expecting your call a bit sooner."

"Magnus. How did you know it was me?" Jem asked surprised.

"Well, it was either going to be you or Will, and he wouldn't have waited politely for my response before demanding what he wanted from me. I know that from experience," he replied wryly.

"So you know why I'm calling then," Jem said, leaning back in his chair, glancing out the window at the lamp lit street, the knot in his chest releasing slightly.

"I do," replied Magnus promptly. "Though I'm surprised it took you this long. I would've assumed knowing exactly how far away from home you all are and how much you stand to lose if by chance you _don't_ get back-" he heard a hint of warning in Magnus's dry tone now "you would have been particularly anxious to find out exactly what you all are doing here."

Jem sat up straighter. "I am," he said fervently. "And the time I haven't spend calling you I've spent thinking. And though I don't enjoy having to ask for favors, I will."

"See this is why the difference between you and a Herondale is so obvious," Magnus quipped, amused. "How polite a request."

Jem ignored this and let out a breath. "I don't remember how we got here, you're right. But every other memory- of Will, Tessa, the Institute, all of it- I remember. You know that."

He took the silence on the other end of the line for affirmation and continued.

"This is dark magic, I can feel it. We need to go back, but that's never going to happen if Will won't come." He ran a hand through his hair, feeling his brow furrow. "If you say going to New York will get us home, I believe you. But we need Will."

Silence. Then: "What do you want _me_ to do?"

"I need you to get Will, or find out why it is he won't come. I can see in his eyes- It's so strange because- He _knows_. He knows none of this is real and yet he won't do anything to change it, which is not like Will. _Something'_ s holding him back, I just wish I knew-"

A cold laugh. "Even in this timeline you miss the key that's dangling right in front of your face. I had thought you might understand your own parabatai better here given how blatantly obvious it is-" Jem felt obliged to feel insulted due to the tone in Magnus' voice. "-but I can see you're never going to see the point so I'll give it."

Jem sat in bewilderment while Magnus paused, clearly for affect.

"James, have you considered that it might not be a some _thing_ but more of a some _one_?"

Jem leaned back in his chair. "I don't know what you mean," he said blankly.

Magnus laughed mirthlessly. "It's funny. You called for my help, but you don't even know why you need me." A pause. "But I'll do it. In this one area, I feel I am more the Will Herondale expert than you, Shadowhunter."

And Jem hung up, feeling that the knots in his chest had not subsided: they had multiplied.

* * *

"I don't need to do this," Will refuted angrily for what felt like the thousandth time. He could tell by the expression on Linette Herondale's face that she felt the same way.

"William, we are not discussing this," she replied firmly, her grip on the steering wheel tightening. "If you won't talk to me, you're going to talk to them. I'm not letting you keep this inside."

It was early afternoon the day after his horrible encounter with Tessa in the hospital and Mrs. Herondale had clearly decided drastic action was needed to deal with her son. Will had come home, drenched to the skin from a late night downpour he had run into milling about the streets alone, to his mother, sitting at the dining table with a fighting look on her face. He had now said so many vehement no's to her plan that he felt like a record caught on repeat. And yet here he was.

"Mam," he said through gritted teeth, forcing his frustration down. "Don't pretend to understand. I don't need to talk to anyone. Please, just trust me."

They had pulled up. His mother pulled the parking break up rather aggressively. "I made the mistake of letting it slide with your father, Will. I'm not letting what happened to him happen to my only son." She turned to give him a look he was sure would be pleading, but he turned away quickly.

Will bit back a bitter retort at these words and stared vaguely out the window at the dull building in front of them. The sign was clearly weather worn, the words "Ivygrove Psychiatric Center" barely legible in what must have once been stark black lettering. He stared at the muted grey office, feeling numb of all emotion.

"William?" Linette posed the question hesitantly from next to him.

Without waiting for another word or giving a response Will threw open the door and strode across the parking lot, shutting it behind him. If he was going to walk into a psychiatric ward to admit he was deranged to a stranger (which he still had not decided to do) he would not be bringing his mother with him. He didn't want her to see any more of this than she had to.

He swallowed back bile as he pushed open the doors to the sounds of a dead waiting room. It was painted a bright, supposedly meant to be cheery, orange that looked a bit like spit up and no music played, the dominating sound the clearly gossipping receptionist at the front. A large, smiling cardboard sun hung from above the reception desk. The patients in the waiting area were abnormally quiet. A chill ran down his spine.

"-yes, that's exactly what I said and she was so in love with him you wouldn't believe-"

He heard soft crying from the corner of the seating area and a loud shush. His eyes caught onto a girl, presumably the source, in a faded sweatsuit, using her oversized sleeves to dab at her swollen eyes.

Feeling utterly out of place, his legs abnormally long, his hands at a loss with what to do with themselves, he took a seat on the far left of the room, trying not to look around him. He thought for a moment his chest physically hurt, but he knew that couldn't be. He hadn't wanted to really give the question of his sanity any thought, but now, sitting in a psychiatrist's office, it was hard to ignore. The sound of the sniffs from the girl seats away from him felt like distinct, painful jabs. Was this insanity? His mind flicked back through the past few weeks, lingering on the sensation of perfect understanding he'd felt at first seeing Tessa's face. Will flinched. And yet she didn't know him. She didn't know him. He must be insane for the amount of miscalculations he was making, the things he was doing to his family. The worst of it was (and he swallowed hard as, without permission, his mind admitted it to himself) the person of Will everyone in his life seemed to think they knew, his mother, Cecily, Tatiana, even at some points Jem, he felt as if he had never met in his life. Never, in all of his discussions of their past he was subjected to by Tatiana did he feel as though the description of his past words, doings, fit who he felt he was. But who _did_ he feel he was? A brief image of sitting on the edge of a hospital cot, candle light burning low as it illuminated the drowsy face of a smiling Tessa Gray flickered through his mind. It was as though a fist fight was taking place inside of him, and, deep down, the real William Herondale was losing.

"William Herondale?"

A punch to the gut. He stood automatically.

The gossiping receptionist was standing, having gotten off the phone, giving him an odd pitying smile. He wondered what his face looked like. . .

She gestured to the doorway on her right, leading out of the waiting area. "Third door on your right," she said in a kind tone.

He simply nodded and strode through the doorway. Staring at the blank yellow hallway gave him time to think. What was he going to say to this person? The truth? He paused for a moment at the entrance to Door 3. A part of him felt sick with guilt. His mother wanted him to talk to this person, to get the help she knew he needed because he _was_ sick- no matter how wrong it felt to think it, he knew it was a logical explanation. If the whole world thought Will was sick, mistaken and wrong, who was he to say that he was the sole voice of reason? It was much more logical, in a way much easier, to simply give in and believe that he was just wrong, and let them fix him. . .

He had not finished his mental battle when the door flew open, his hand still a few inches from the knob.

"Were you planning on coming in or was I going to wait forever? I have other patients, you know."

Will blinked.

"What-"

He was dragged inside the room by the front of his shirt.

Extremely familiar narrow almond shaped eyes gleamed out at him. The pseudo doctor smiled.

Will pulled himself out of Magnus Bane's grip, annoyed. He stepped backwards into the wall. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What a hello," Magnus tisked, looking smug. Will glanced over him and took in his full appearance.

"Are you wearing a lab coat? What, did you get promoted?" he asked sarcastically.

"You could say that, sure," Magnus grinned, plopping himself onto the small, spinning doctor's stool. "Or you could also say I have the right. . . connections." He twirled his fingers at Will ominously, emitting blue sparks.

Will glared at him. "Are you _following_ me?"

Magnus shrugged. "Merely doing a friend a favor. Besides its in my interest too if I get you home."

"Home?"

"Honestly, Will," said Magnus exasperatedly, his sparkly hair seeming to stand on end from annoyance, not merely an abundance of hair gel. "You listened to my spiel in the hospital, didn't you?"

"I heard it," Will said grudgingly.

Magnus rolled his eyes."You're just as hard to deal with as I remembered." A hint of a smile teased across his face. He swiveled the chair a bit, absentmindedly. "Don't pretend you didn't think about coming to New York with me, Will, because I know you did." He held up a hand quickly to silence Will's protests before they came out of his mouth. "I am giving you credit for not being the total idiot I'm sure you're trying to make yourself into." He shot Will a look. "Which is more than you deserve I'm sure."

Suddenly Will felt extremely worn. He leaned against the wall and glanced up at Magnus wearily. "It's not that I don't want to believe you," he said, voice shaken and hollow. He didn't know why he was responding to Magnus honestly. "It's that I can't. My family, my _life_ -"

"You don't want that life and your family is just as lost as you are," Magnus replied, unmoved. "I am not going to pretend that I don't-"

He was cut off by a strange sort of muffled squeal emitted by the closet closest to Magnus and the office's desk.

Will stared. "What was that?"

Magnus flicked a finger pointedly towards the closet, a single spark flying, face expressionless. "I had to stash the doctor somewhere, didn't I?"

Will turned to leave.

Magnus was suddenly at his side, in the blink of an eye, hand on the knob, expression dangerous. "Don't run out on me yet, Will, not when I haven't had my say."

Will met his eyes aggressively. "What could you say that would change my mind?"

Magnus smiled slightly, though Will could've sworn for a moment that his eyes looked sad. "I don't think there's anything I can say," he admitted, sticking his hands in the pockets of his doctor's coat, but not looking hardly as defeated as the words expressed. "However," he pulled out a faded, ancient looking sheet of paper, holding it out to Will. "I do think there's something _she_ can."

Will took the paper, a jolt shooting through his stomach. He unfolded it slowly, glancing up at Magnus before reading the words:

" _August, 1878,_

 _Dear Nate. . ."_

* * *

 _Hey guys, Merry Christmas! (I promise I didn't spend my day writing this, its been in the works for a while). I hope I bring you Christmas cheer with my love of cliff hangers and the fact that I'm finally back from my weirdly long hiatus. I'm going to try my best not to do that again. . . Thanks so much to everyone who's been commenting! I've seen all of your comments and appreciated every single one :) It's because of you guys that I love doing this, so thank you for reading and caring!_


	16. Shots Fired

Tessa did not have an amazing night in Jem's room. Maybe it was the oddity of sleeping in someone else's bed, maybe it was the events of the past few weeks, but she had the strangest dreams she'd had in a long time. From the moment her head hit the pillow she seemed to go into a fog, which gradually developed into a scene. She was in an old house, desperately hunting for a pink hair ribbon. An old woman called to her, wearing a forced smile, and tried to lead her into a room with kind words, promising she would give Tessa a broken vase. Tessa protested; she did not want a broken vase, she needed a parasol, with spiked edges, to stab Gabriel with. The old woman had laughed at her perfectly reasonable request, which utterly bewildered Tessa, before pulling off her cloak to reveal that she had no body, only a head. But dream Tessa couldn't scream. The dream moved sharply and suddenly Nate was before her, chained to a chair, demanding that she give Aunt Harriet chocolates and set the curtains on fire, while Will, beside him, danced on a table singing a song about chicken pox. She woke up, startled, and in a cold sweat, to the sound of someone sawing at a phantom violin.

A trickle of sweat ran down her face as she gasped, looking around her and taking in the blank room, almost empty room. For a moment she panicked. Where was she?

The door flew open. Tessa let out a scream.

Jem knocked into the desk beside the doorway at her in surprise, cursing, before looking at her, eyes wide with alarm.

He stood there for a second. "I didn't mean to startle you," he said, looking bewildered.

"No-" Tessa gasped, catching her breath, staring at him with wide eyes. "I had just- Forgotten where I was-" She cut off, looking at his face. He wore a light blue button up, with several buttons misplaced as though it was put on in a hurry, his hair mussed up as if with sleep, and, it might've been the light, but the bags under his eyes looked much less defined. Through his shock, he looked exhilarated.

"What's happened?" she asked immediately, staring at him, sliding out of the bed. "Were you coming to tell me something?"

He glanced down at her outfit quickly (his shirt, much too baggy on her, and her jeans, which she couldn't bring herself to sleep without in someone else's bed) before meeting her eyes once more with urgency. "Yes. I did. I promise I wouldn't have barged in otherwise." He paused glancing around the floor searchingly. "I forgot you didn't have any things. Is there a way to get them from your house?"

Tessa looked at him exasperatedly. "I don't know and I can't say unless you tell me what this is _about_."

Jem's face split into a grin. "We're leaving. Today. Will finally gave in."

* * *

Will stood beside Magnus next to the checking counter, beat up suitcase leaning against his calf. Magnus hummed the same three notes over and over in a cheerful tone, rocking back and forth on his heels, seeming determined to ignore Will's glare aimed at the side of his head.

"Must you make that _noise_?"

Magnus glanced sideways at Will. "I don't see you coming up with a better way to pass the time."

Will simply turned his gaze to the sliding doors that marked the entrance to the airport.

He was, in all actuality, not actually in a bad mood. He didn't quite know how he felt. It was as though he was in limbo, neither here nor there. He wasn't letting his thoughts drift where they might without his active intervention, with the letter burning a hole in his pocket. Will had changed that night.

He had read that letter so many times the words had come to be complete gibberish to his eyes. His bedroom had felt like a prison cell, as he was forced by his own mind to contemplate Magnus' words, what they might mean. He, William Herondale, born in a different time. A different time? What was a different time? His mind went to his strange urge to pull on suspenders, the sudden jump from a world of foggy memories to the vividly confused one he was trapped in now. Last night, he had read the signature at the bottom of the letter once more, the outline of its swirling lettering burning against his eyelids as he closed them before the glow of his desk lamp. He had taken a breath, rolling onto his back from where he lay on his mattress, and had let his mind loose.

He saw himself, not a boy in jeans but a man, in coat tails, a silk hat, holding out a hand to a girl in long skirts, hair done up tight. He saw him take her into his arms with daring he could only imagine- begin to dance across the floor. To waltz. What had begun as an imaginative daydream was drawing deeper, becoming vivid. He saw green eyes turn to brown, a pale face become flushed, lying awake in soaked trousers, staring up at a dark ceiling, going against his own wishes and letting himself want, so intensely it almost hurt to want, to be able to put his own family ring onto the slim fingers he'd watched so often, and ask her to take his name. His name. What was his name? Herondale. That meant much more than himself. But why? _Why_? He was more than just Will, he was a part of something else, something more than himself- He opened his eyes. And it was in New York. It was in that letter. It was much more than just loving Tessa once or again or for an infinite time ago, he was something. If this was true. If this was true then he was something _more_.

And it might've been Will's ego that made him take to this idea, but he did.

He felt very young, fresh, and ready to face the world as he watched those doors, with nothing set in mind except that he did want to know who he was. Anything else could wait. Or so he told himself.

He had the feeling, as Tessa sprinted through the doors with James Carstairs at her heels, that he had once thought she looked beautiful in a red satin dress too large for her, that seemed a world apart from the baggy brown t-shirt she now wore. He had somehow expected her to look changed as well, as though his revelation would've changed the way she looked, instead of leaving her the same Tessa he'd sat with in the hospital days ago.

It took him a moment to register that she was sprinting into the airport with James Carstairs.

Jem caught sight of he and Magnus first, pointing so that Tessa might see too. The two of them dashed over, panting slightly as they stopped. Tessa looked frazzled, Jem looked extremely worn, sweat dotting his brow. Will noted silently that Jem's shirt was done up wrong, as his parabatai gave him a tired smile. Tessa did not look at him.

"We didn't know when you planned to leave," Jem said, panting slightly as he set down the brown briefcase he had been holding. "We came as fast as we could."

Will cocked a brow. "And did what first? Had a tree climbing competition?" He glanced at Tessa briefly. "You have a twig in your hair," he noted, tugging it out of her curls before she could protest. He felt her startled gaze on his face and ignored it.

"Well, you didn't exactly need to rush but thank you for the thought. The plane doesn't leave for two hours," he remarked, glancing at Jem. "And you might want to use that time to button your shirt properly."

Jem flushed slightly before seeming to put this aside. "We haven't decided- What are we doing about school? I don't have this issue but your families-"

"I left my mother a note saying I was leaving," Will said flippantly. "And school can wait for a few days."

Tessa glanced at Will before turning to Jem. "I left a note for my Aunt Harriet telling her I was going to California to meet with my tour manager. She won't be shocked, it's happened before." Will noted the slight bitter tint to her tone. "And before we leave," Tessa continued boldly. "I need to say something. I think Gabriel should come."

Will turned quickly, staring at her wildly. "Why on earth would you want that piece of absolute idiot to come along with us?"

"Will-" She sounded exasperated, as if she'd dealt with him before and was annoyed by it. His temper rose.

"I don't understand why you'd want him."

"He's just as involved in this as we are-"

"No, he _isn't_ , he has the mental capacity of a slug-"

"What on earth has he done to you? You break his arm, you trash his-"

Magnus cleared his throat, causing Will and Tessa, who were suddenly and inexplicably yelling very close to each others' faces, to turn, startled. Some of the passing crowds had turned to stare.

"While I love being ignored by people I am trying to _save_ -" he stressed this word a little hard. "I'd like to get my say. Gabriel Lightwood _is_ involved in this, though it is unlikely he understands it quite as clearly as you all do (which isn't saying very much)," he shot Will a look. "I think if you wanted to call him," he noted to Tessa, staring at his nails, which seemed to be covered in some sort of polish. "That might be wise."

Tessa nodded tersely before pulling out her phone and dialing, walking several paces away as she did so.

"I think," Jem said, sounding slightly concerned. "I'll call my landlady. Tell Tessa if she get backs before me, won't you, Will?"

Will simply nodded, his eyes on Tessa, a hot, angry feeling tugging in his throat.

As Jem turned and walked away he felt a tug on his elbow.

He turned.

"Careful, Will," said Magnus, glancing at him with a tired expression. "You don't understand what you think you do."

"I think I understand plenty," he said darkly, though knowing, deep down as he watched Tessa glance at him worriedly from around her phone, he understood nothing.

* * *

 _Hey guys! Thanks so much for keeping updated with LIT! So basically, Will doesn't understand what he thinks he does and you might not either because his emotions are a little confused if you can't tell, and so are Tessa's. The only one who really knows what and why they want is Jem and that's for obvious reasons. Comment if there's anyone or thing you'd like to see! Keep watching for updates!_


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